Hidden Truths
by Kiristeen
Summary: The death of Hermione's parents brings chaos into her life as she stumbles across the truth about her mother's forgotten past, and of her birth father, bringing chaos to her life, as well as that of the Malfoys and Snape.
1. Prologue Chapter One

**Title:** Hidden Truths  
**Author:** Kiristeen ke Alaya  
**Series:** Not planned  
**Genre:** Harry Potter  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairings:** None current, beyond possible canon  
**AU:** to HBP and DH, but I will keep certain historical information from HBP.  
**Warnings:** Minor Character death (we've seen them appear only once, maybe twice, in the series).  
**Summary: **Following the death of Hermione's parents, certain truths, long hidden from everyone, come to light, throwing Hermione's life, as well as several others into chaos. Hermione is her mother's daughter, but she isn't her father's.

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Prologue  
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Dinner had long since been cleared away, and Hermione was helping Ron and Harry with their homework, hers having long since been completed. She, in between spelling, grammer, and other such help was drafting a letter to her parents. She had been so caught up in school this year that she hadn't written them in over a month, and it was well past time that she did so.

She shook her head, scanning over what she had already written. She certainly had enough to tell them. As she put quill to parchment, she promised herself that should wouldn't ever go this long without writing them again.

"Do we _have_ to do this now?" Ron asked for the fifth time. "It isn't even due until Monday."

"It'll be nice to get it out of the way," Hermione repeated, shaking her head, "don't you think?"

"Not really," Ron muttered, but returned his attention to his transfiguration essay.

It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation -- tonight even -- and it probably wouldn't be the last. Hermione knew how to counter most of Ron -- and Harry's -- objections and could laugh at it even. Well, she could laugh at it when she wasn't trying to get her own homework done at the same time. When she was, the arguments were simply irritations she could do without. In those cases, the boys didn't get much done. A snippy Hermione wasn't a very convincing Hermione. She knew that, but sometimes she just couldn't help it.

"Look at it this way Ronald," she tried again. "If you finish your homework early, your weekend will be completely free of homework."

He brightened at that. He always did. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last long. It never did. Hermione counted down the seconds until the red-head -- who Hermione was absolutely convinced suffered at least a mild form of ADHD -- was distracted again.

"Hey, Harry?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, eagerly looking up at the distraction.

Hermione snorted, but ignored them. It was better in the long run if she gave them a couple of minutes, _then_ reminded them to get back to work. She'd spend longer arguing if she tried now.

"Quidditch practice went great, tonight, don't you think?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "We're going to stomp Ravenclaw tomorrow."

Ron grinned broadly at that, taking his still new role of Gryffindor Keeper seriously.

"Awww, is the mudblood mummy having trouble keeping the kiddies in line?" drawled an all too familiar voice.

Hermione sighed as she gave up all hope of either Harry or Ron finishing anything tonight. A run in with Malfoy was always followed by at least half an hour of disecting what was done and said and then an hour of fantasizing what they _could_ have done or said. It too was old hat by now, unfortunately, it wasn't nearly as amusing. _It_ was merely irritating.

"Go away, Malfoy!" Ron snarled, predictably going red in the face as he rose to the ferret's bait.

"Your insults are getting a little lame, Malfoy," Harry offered through grit teeth. "What's the matter, running out of brain power to come up with interesting ones?"

Hermione sighed again, doing her best to ignore the byplay -- at least mostly. She _was_ keeping enough eye on them to make sure nothing escalated to wand point. For the most part, though, she was able to tune them out completely and finish her letter, signing it with a sigh of relief.

She looked up when she was done, surprised to see that Malfoy had already left. When had he gone? She frowned, not having realized before then that she hadn't been paying close enough attention to notice that. She hadn't been wrong about the after effects, however. Both Harry and Ron had all but abandoned their homework and were ranting about the ferret.

She sighed and stood. She wasn't staying around for this. "I'm going to take my letter to the owlery," she informed them, gathering her things up. She got absentminded responses and she shook her head as she left, wondering whether five minutes from now they would even remember where she had gone.

x-x-x

Harry nodded absently as Hermione told them she was leaving, not breaking off his rant about the bloody ferret. He was just-- He frowned as a dark owl swooped in through the owl windows high above the great hall. It was carrying a black envelope and headed directly for Professor McGonagall. Neither was a good thing. He pointed, drawing Ron's attention to it.

They had all become all too aware of what those black envelopes meant. Bad news. It didn't always mean exactly the same thing, but like a howler, they were easily identifiable as news of the not good variety from the ministry.

Mere moments after opening the envelope, Professor McGonagall gasped quietly.

Harry and Ron exchanged a worried look and both head immediately for the head table, their unfinished work lying forgotten on the table.

McGonagall frowned as they approach, setting down the letter and speaking before they could voice their concerns. "Where is Miss Granger?"

She went down to send an owl to her folks," Harry said, frowning even more now. Had something happened to them? "What's wrong?" he asked, hoping his half formed thought was way off-base.

McGonagall pulled herself up straight. "Mr. Potter, would you please fetch Miss Granger. Inform her that she is wanted in the headmaster's office."

"I will, Professor, but--"

McGonagall nodded sharply, rising and brushing past them as soon as she heard his answer.

Ron and Harry exchange another worried look as they stared after her, both wanting to know more.

"That was a ministry letter, Ron," he said hollowly, telling his friend nothing he didn't already know.

They rushed out of the Great Hall intent on finding Hermione. Harry just hoped they wouldn't be sending her to find out her parents had been killed. He knew she wouldn't deal well with that at all. _Who would?!_ he asked, berating himself for the profoundly stupid thought.

They skid to a stop at the top of the stairs leading down to the owlery, startled at Hermione's abrupt appearance through the door.

She frowned at them. "What were you doing running in the halls?" she demanded of them imperiously. "You could have seriously hurt someone."

Habit had Harry cringing back from the criticism, but he rallied quickly, knowing it wasn't the important matter right now. "Bad news, Hermione," he told her. "McGonagall got a black letter," he continued, trying to figure out how to tell her without just dumping it on her. He watched as awareness slumped her shoulders. She, too, knew what those letters meant. She just didn't know the worst part yet.

"Who--"

"You're needed in the headmaster's office," Ron blurted and Harry could have smacked him. As caring as Ron was, tact had never been his strong point.

Hermione gasped, shaking her head as tears sprang into her eyes.

Before Harry could say anything else, she darted around them and took off at a dead run.

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Chapter One  
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"Bad news, he says," Hermione muttered numbly. It was pretty much all she could think at the moment. She was functioning in basic mode only. Nothing made sense in her world now. She had spent the night in the infirmary; though she had protested that at first. She'd wanted to be around her friends, not stuck alone all night.

She'd spent several hours tossing and turning, sleep refusing to come as she turned scenarios over and over in her mind, trying to figure out if she should, _could_, have done anything to prevent this. Her parents were _dead_! She would never see them again.

Sighing, she pushed the food on her plate around a bit more, trying to decide if she could stomach even one more bite. Deciding, rather emphatically -- her stomach giving a leap and twist -- that, no, she couldn't, she pushed the plate away and ignored it entirely in favor of her tea. That at least should help calm her stomach. That was her hope anyway. She didn't want to embarrass herself by sicking up what she'd managed to get down.

She was dressed, but not yet allowed to leave the infirmary. Beyond that, she was so very tired, and wanted nothing more than to lay back down and forget the world existed. She didn't dare, though, not without the help of dreamless sleep. It had been midnight when Madam Pomfrey had come in and made her take some last night. It was only that, that had allowed her any rest at all, she was sure.

None of it seemed real, not truly. Part of her believed that if she could just go home, everything would be the way it should be, normal. In all the years she had been helping Harry, she had never really thought about the fact that her parents might be in danger, might die. Harry and Ron? Yes, she'd thought about that a lot. Herself? Yeah, she'd thought about that, too. It was inevitable, really, that she would. They had all been in quite a few dangerous situations together. She just hadn't thought about her parents.

They represented her other world, and had nothing to do with this one . . . or so it felt like to her most of the time. But _he_ had broken the rules, he and his _death eaters_! _He_ had mixed her two worlds into one gigantic mess of misery.

She was too caught up in her inner world to notice when company arrived, not even the voice as it spoke truly penetrated, though she did hear it in an abstract, not related to her kind of way; enough, anyway, that she registered it as female.

"Miss Granger!" Professor Snape snapped, loudly.

She jumped, snapping her head around in startlement, not having realized he was even there. It was then that it penetrated that Professor McGonagall had been trying to get her attention, had called her name twice, in fact. "Yes, Sir?" she asked, not having the energy to do muster much more of a response.

Snape rolled his eyes, sneering at her. "Pay . Attention!"

"Severus," Professor McGonagall chided.

The professor didn't react much to her prodding beyond huffing in irritation.

Hermione, embarrassed by her lack of concentration, worried her lower lip as ducked her head and stared at her clasped hands in her lap.

"Are you ready?" McGonagall asked quietly, gently.

_Ready?_ Hermione thought with a touch of hysteria. She had forgotten until now what had to be done today. _I'll never be ready for this!_ "Yes, Ma'am," was all she said, though, nodding.

McGonagall nodded and moved back, allowing Hermione to climb out of the bed. That simple action took almost all of the energy she could muster. She didn't see how she was going to do this. It didn't seem possible.

After she gained her feet, Professor McGonagall held out a goblet far enough Hermione could just barely see it in the periphery of her vision. She snapped her head up, wondering what it was. "It's empty," she said, confused.

"It's a portkey, Miss Granger," Snape sneered. "Surely, you've heard of them."

Outrage momentarily burst through her apathy and several rather inappropriate retorts sped through her mind. The feeling didn't last long enough to get her into trouble, however. She sighed instead. "Of course, Sir," she whispered, reaching out to touch the empty goblet.

"Of course," Snape muttered, sounding rather disgusted.

Between them, Professor McGonagall sighed and, as soon as Professor Snape touched the portkey as well, she activated it, all three of them disappearing from the infirmary.

She stumbled as they appeared in a small room without windows and a single exit. Underneath the numbness, her mind was active. Although she had difficulty actually fully registered the questions, they roiled deep inside. Like, what was this room? Had it been set up expressly for the purpose of portkeying? Or was it simply a handy closet that conveniently didn't get used for anything else? Where were they? Were they in the building they needed to be in, or was this just a . . . waystation and they would need to travel the muggle way to their destination?

Her feet following Professor McGonagall -- courtesy of Professor Snape's firm hand above her elbow -- Hermione simply let her mind go blank. It was better than thinking, better than _feeling_. She honestly didn't believe she would want to do either of those things ever again.

After what seemed an eternity of wandering, they stopped at a desk, Hermione completely ignoring the conversation between Professor McGonagall and the moron sitting there smiling at them. Hermione wanted to reach out and smack the idiot, a flash of outrage once again, briefly, piercing the fog surrounding her. She signed where and when she was told to sign, barely registering that she was actually signing anything. The thought that she should pay attention to what she was signing waved at her and sped away.

As they stood there, though, longer and longer, panic began to edge its way past her comfortable numbness. Barely grasping hold of her remaining sanity, Hermione wanted nothing more han to find a dark corner, or better yet, a hole and make the whole world simply go away and leave her alone. This was just a ridiculous amount of red tape just so she could do something she didn't want to do in the first place!

Professor McGonagall had met her parents. She knew them on sight. Why couldn't her head of house identify her parents. _I don't want to see them like this!_ she screamed silently, the explanation from yesterday speeding through her mind even as she protested -- something about legalities. Professor McGonagall didn't 'exist' in the muggle world, so it had to be her. She was the only one who could legally say, yeah, that's them. Go away.

She almost laughed when Professor Snape finally lost his temper. It wasn't at her this time. He went into prime intimidation mode -- in _defence_ of her. The shock was enough to make her blink and stare at the man in surprise. Who was this man and what had he done with her Gryffindor hating professor? Maybe he actually hated unnecessary paperwork and delays more?

As they were led down a long, dank corridor shortly thereafter, Hermione was pretty sure the potions master had terrified the poor receptionist witless -- not that she had that much sympathy to spare. Hers was pretty much used up on herself at the moment. The corridor lengthening, seemingly by magic, Hermione slowed her steps without thinking, without caring. She could _not_ do this! She just couldn't.

Behind her, Snape growled lowly and grabbed hold of her elbow in a firm grip, firmer than he had used before and pulled her along. She didn't protest, didn't care enough to protest the semi-rough treatment.

As they approached a double set of doors at the end of the corridor, however, she balked. Gold calligraphy stood out across them, below a set of glazed windows, **Morgue**.

She tried to back away, shaking her head in frantic denial. She couldn't go in there. She only succeeding in turning, however, what with Professor Snape's still firm grip on her arm. The no's started out slow and quiet, but grew in speed and volume until she was shouting a constant stream. "No, no, no, no, no!"

Professor Snape shook her. "Miss Granger!" he snapped.

"No, nonononono!"

"Miss Granger!" he shouted, shaking her once more.

She jumped, gasping, then clamping her mouth shut. She swallowed convulsively, then took a deep breath, just to be able to whisper. "Sorry."

"Quite understandable," Professor McGonagall consoled, sounding incredibly sad. It made Hermione wonder just how many times the older woman had, had to do this. "Come now, child, the sooner you do this, the sooner it's done and over with."

Snape scoffed.

Pulling herself from the man's grasp, shaking, Hermione took a step forward and closed her eyes. Then the blessed numbness set back in, making her feel like she was moving through a thick sea of molasses as opposed to through doors and air. She could hear Professor McGonagall speak with the attendant inside, but all she could concentrate on were the gleeming metal doors with heavy locking handles on them. What? Did they think the occupants were going to get up and walk away if they weren't locked in? They were dead for heaven's sake! They weren't ever going to walk anywhere ever again.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she absently noted when Professor McGonagall and the attendant moved toward a specific door, drawer, she knew they were called. Part of her sort of . . . phased out and she found herself wondering how this was done in the wizarding world. Was it any better, any easier on the family left behind? It had to be; certainly, nothing could be worse. _God! I don't want to do this_ she thought in panic as Professor Snape propelled her forward.

When she stopped beside the now open slab, the attendant unzipped the horrid body bag and pulled back the edge. She just stared; stared at the face that was at the same so familiar and so very different than she had ever known. It took her several moments before she could look up toward the attendant. "What do I do?" she breathed faintly.

"You just need to tell me who this is, for the record," the attendant said softly, his voice quiet, polite, and most of all sympathetic.

It was too much for her, she burst into tears. "My father," she choked out, "Theodore Allen Granger."

The attendant nodded. "Thank you," he replied softly, continuing as he recovered her father. "I'm sorry."

Rather mechanically, Hermione watched as the attended moved to the next drawer. She automatically stepped forward as he pulled it open. The tears that had begun to slow, renewed with new force as he reached for the zipper.

_No!_ she screamed silently, not all together certain she hadn't said it out loud as well, since the attendent hesitated briefly. _I don't want to see my mothere laying there!_ Unfortunately, no one listened to her thoughts.

He pulled back the edge and looked over at her sadly.

Behind her, Professor Snape gasped; though, Hermione ignored him, not seeing anything beyond her dead mother, certainly nothing shocking enough to elicit such a response from him.

She clenched her eyes shut against a fresh wave of grief. Her tears didn't respect the barrier, they slipped through to continue spilling down her face. "My mother," she offered without prompting this time, managing to choke out only, "Granger," for a name, turning abruptly away from the sight of her mother laying there.

She felt McGonagall's arms fold around her and pull her from the room and out into the corridor and toward the chairs she hadn't noticed when the passed by them.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: Yes, Please.


	2. Chapter Two and Three

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Chapter Two  
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Silence reigned as McGonagall led her to a hard plastic chair. She allowed herself to be seated while she tried to make sense of her world and her confusing thoughts. Then suddenly, without warning, the damn broke on her grief and wrenching sobs were torn out of her chest. McGonagall leapt forward and pulled her into her arms, rocking her gently, murmuring soft, soothing noises while she wept.

Amazingly enough, Professor Snape made no sound to interrupt her catharsis and eventually she calmed. To her immense surprise, Hermione discovered that it had helped to clear away the fog that had been strangling her. She could think now and she _hurt_. God, how she hurt.

"Did your mother ever speak of her past?" Professor Snape asked, his voice amazingly quiet in the silence that was beginning to lengthen into the realm of uncomfortable.

Surprised -- shocked, more like -- Hermione turned her gaze toward the professor. "Yes," she admitted, more than curious as to why the professor was asking, why he wanted to know. "Sometimes, she did."

"What of her childhood?" he asked then, his gaze seeming to bore holes into her eyes.

Frowning now, wondering if she relly wanted to discuss her family with this particular wizard -- especially right now, what with her mother's body only a room away. The part of her that wanted to talk about her parents, that didn't care to whom she was speaking, won out over the much smaller part of her that wanted to defy the potions Master's sudden interest in her personal life and she finally turned to fully face him.

"She never spoke of it at all," she replied evenly, wrestling with the soul-deep sadness of knowing that now, her mother never would. Swallowing hastily and quickly blinking back the threatening renewal of tears, she continued before the professor could ask another question. "She couldn't."

Professor Snape blinked in surprise, his eyebrow arching sharply. At this point, however, Professor McGonagall interrupted. "Couldn't, Miss Granger?"

"That's right, Professor, couldn't," Hermione replied, nodding. "She and my father met in hospital when she was 18. She'd been through some kind of traumatic event -- at least, that's what the doctors presumed."

"_Presumed,_ Miss Granger?" Snape sneered, interrupting her narrative.

Huffing, Hermione ground her teeth together, in order to bite back the angry retort she just knew would get her in trouble. She had enough to worry about right now, without adding detention into the mix. "Yes, Professor, _presumed_. Seeing as she had no apparent physical injuries, yet she couldn't remember a thing about herself, they determined that something traumatic happened, something bad enough that her mind made her forget to keep her sane. My mother had no childhood."

"Did she ever remember?" Professor McGonagall asked quietly, drawing Hermione's attention from the other professor. She had never seen the older witch look so sad.

"No," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "The only clue we ever got to her past was a short note that was clutched in her hand when she was admitted. All it said was a name, hers presumably." Hermione blushed then, and judging by the older witch's change of expression, peaked her head of house's curiosity. "Well, that and the doctors' discovery that she was pregnant at the time."

McGonagall looked surprised. "I didn't know you had an older sibling," she said.

"I don't," Hermione replied. "My mother only had one child. My father is sterile."

A strange, strangled sounding noise from Snape snapped the last threads of Hermione's control, and she spun back toward the dark man, fully intending on letting him bear the full brunt of her grief and anger, only to freeze, her scathing words dying unsaid, her anger seeping away with them. He was far paler than she had ever seen him, and considering he was just about the palest man she'd ever met to start with, that was something of an accomplishment.

"Are you alright, Sir?" she asked, momentarily drawn outside her own pain. This was better. She was better at dealing with other people's problems than at dealing with her own. Taking a half step forward, she reached out, raising her hand before common sense reasserted itself and she stopped before ever touching the prickly professor. She could only guess at his reaction if she had done so, and suspected it wouldn't be pretty.

He ignored her question, his dark, penetrating eyes staring directly into hers, almost as if he were seraching for some hidden truth. "What was your mother's name?" he demanded harshly; though, to Hermione's newly sensitive ears, he sounded a bit . . . stressed.

They both ignored Professor McGonagall's chastisement.

"Athena," she replied, now beyond curious. Why did it matter? Had he met her mother before?

When, rather incredibly, the professor paled further, swaying on his feet, both she and her professor darted forward, each of them grabbing hold of an elbow to keep him upright. Before either of them could say anything at all, Snape snorted out a humorless bark of laughter.

"Minerva, I do believe I need to sit down," he said conversationally, but made no move to do so -- even with their prompting. After no more than the briefest of pauses, he switched his attention back to Hermione. "Your mother was a squib," he said abruptly, "not a muggle."

Hermione gasped. _What?_ "That's not possible," she denied automatically. "She would have told me."

"You knew her, Severus?" McGonagall asked, diverting the professor's attention.

Snape, taking a deep, rather shaky breath, nodded once, then spun around and strode away from them, not stopping or even slowing before he disappeared from sight, leaving two very bewildered witches behind him.

"That was decidedly . . . odd," Professor McGonagall said suddenly, seemingly to herself.

Hermione nodded vigorously, the _very_ odd behavior of her potions professor temporarily distracting her from her overwhelming grief. It was a welcome respite, despite the confusion it left behind. "He didn't even call me an idiot for forgetting my mother couldn't remember her past so _couldn't_ have told me she was a squib," she said softly, awed. Obviously, whatever was wrong had the other professor very . . . rattled.

McGonagall chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Count your blessing, small and large, Miss Granger," she said with a small smile. "I doubt it will ever happen again."

Surprised that she could, Hermione let out a small, watery laugh. "Probably not," she agreed, already deep in thought.

_How did he know my mother?_ she wondered as McGonagall urged her into motion. Then she blinked. _Eff that!_ she exclaimed silently. _Is he right? That's what I want to know._ Was she really not muggleborn? Despite the situation, Hermione found herself almost smirking. She would dearly love to rub that fact in Malfoy's face.

And as easy as that, the mystery drew her in, and she was glad of it. It might just get her through this horror with her sanity completely intact. She could almost hear her mother laughing. It was a trait they both shared; neither could stand not _knowing_. The thought of the look on the feeret's face was simply icing on the cake.

She would solve this mystery one way or another. It would be a fitting tribute to the mother that had instilled a love of puzzles and intrigue in her daughter. That resolved, she felt just a little better. She had something to do. Perhaps it wasn't something that would take her mind _off_ what had happened, but she wasn't simply sitting back and letting everything happen, either.

"Well," McGonagall said firmly, opening the door to the closet they had portkeyed into originally, "time to return."

Stepping inside, Mcgonagall held out the goblet once more and the two witches left the building that held sadness etched into its very walls, reappearing in the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey promptly began fussing over her, and Hermione allowed it. If nothing else, it allowed her to continue musing on the mysteries surrounding her mother -- new and old.

She spent one more day in the infirmary, chomping at the bit to get started. The _queen of the infirmary_ otherwise known as Madam Pomfrey wouldn't even allow her to read her school books.

Of course, Harry and Ron had both been by to see her, each of them staying until the dragon lady chased them off.

"Did you hear me, Miss Granger?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Hermione blushed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I was lost in thought."

"I said, there's no reason you need to stay here any longer."

Hermione jumped up, glad to be going. There were things she had to accomplish, studying to get done, classes to make up for, mysteries to solve.

Pomfrey chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Slow down a minute, Miss Granger."

Hermione slumped. _What now?_

"Here are three half doses of calming draught. You can take one of these before bed each night. They'll help you sleep and won't interfere with normal dreaming, unlike dreamless sleep."

Hermione nodded, taking the potions; though, she doubted she'd use them. She simply didn't want to argue with the mediwitch. It might delay getting out of the infirmary.

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Chapter Three  
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The moment she was released from the infirmary, Hermione headed straight for the library. She didn't even bother stopping by Gryffindor tower to get her things. More than once, she had run across geneology books in the library. She hadn't done more than take a quick peek at them the first time, and had more or less ignored them since then. At the time, she hadn't really cared who was related to whom in the wizarding world. It just hadn't seemed as important as everything else there was to learn. She had learned, however, that they were self-updating, just as the Hogwarts' register was. Something that, right now, she was very grateful for.

If Professor Snape was right, and her mother was really a squib, then the information she wanted would be in one of those books -- regardless of whether or not her mother had been 'removed' from any official family trees or tapestries. Disinheritance did not erase the fact that the disinherited had been born into those families in the first place, no matter how much the families in question may wish it so. That meant her mother would be in there.

Hurrying along familiar corridors, Hermione was almost excited, certainly a little nervous. Actually, it almost felt as if her mother were watching over her shoulder, just as excited as she was about finally finding out, once and for all, just who she had started life as. She smiled sadly at her fanciful thinking, wishing that could really be true. _Well, I"ll just have to be excited enough for both of us_ she thought resolutely. Her mother would certainly prefer it to moping, anyway.

Just as she reached the library doors, she ran into Harry and Ron.

"We're so sorry we weren't there for you when you got out," they said together.

"Why didn't you wait for us?" Ron asked, cocking his head to the side.

She just snorted and gave him an 'are you kidding' look.

On her other side, Harry laughed. "Right, Ron, and stay another minute in there, fearing that Madam Pomfrey would find a reason to keep her longer?"

Ron shrugged sheepishly. "Right. Good point."

"If you ever need to talk," Harry said as they entered the library, "we'll listen."

"Even if it's just to tell us all about them, again and again," Ron added, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Or if it's just to cry on our shoulders," Harry offered.

_Blink_ Oh! Tears sprang up out of nowhere as the reality hit like a load of bricks falling on her head. Her parents were dead, really truly dead. Her knees buckled. Harry and Ron were really good friends. Boys just didn't offer to do the 'emotional' thing very often.

On either side of her, Harry and Ron each grabbed an arm and kept her on her feet. They held her until they reached the nearest table and settled her into one of the chairs there. Once she was sitting, they both wrapped her in a cocoon of support and arms, and she cried out her grief. Ron even managed to find a handkerchief -- something Hermione would not have credited Ron with actually carrying around.

Eventually, the storm passed and, hiccupping, she smiled sadly but gratefully, at her two best friends. "Sorry about that," she whispered hoarsely.

"Not a problem," Harry replied easily, one hand rubbing her back comfortingly.

"What are friends for?" Ron asked, his hand left resting on her shoulder. "Besides," he continued, shrugging, "kinda got to expect it, ya know . . . considering."

Hermione's eyes teared right back up, but she just nodded sadly. "Yeah," she agreed.

Suddenly remembering why she was headed to the library in the first place, Hermione eyes lit with muted mischief. "Want to help me solve a mystery?" she asked.

Both her friends perked up immediately. Harry turned wary very quickly, however.

"What kind of mystery," he asked suspiciously. "It isn't one that's going to get us in trouble again is it?"

Hermione snorted in half-laughter. "Isn't that usually my line, Harry?" she asked, highly amused at the personality switch.

Ron laughe and nodded. "Yeah, mate, what are you thinking?" He turned to Hermione. "Of course we want to help," he said, then frowned, as it became his turn to become suspicious. "This isn't going to involve books is it?"

Both Harry and she snickered in response, trying to keep their voices down. It _was_ the library after all and they didn't want to get kicked out. "Thanks, Ron," Hermione said, ducking foward to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I needed that."

Ron blushed as brightly as his hair, ducking his head sheepishly. "Part of my job," he replied, grinning crookedly.

"And to answer you question, yes, it does involve books, Ron. But no studying, I promise."

Both the boys looked at her in mock shock . . . at least she hoped it was mock.

"No studying?" they asked in near unison.

"Nope," she replied, shaking her head.

"Okay, what's the mystery that needs solving?"

Pulling out her wand, Hermione cast the strongest privacy ring she knew. Not only did she not want anyone to know until she was ready for them to, she knew the boys would not react quietly to what she was going to tell them.

Both their eyes widened in mute surprise. "Wow," Ron exclaimed, "what's with the secrecy, Herm?"

"Don't call me Herm," Hermione complained offhand, then leaned forward, closer to them both. "I might not be muggleborn."

"What?!" both exclaimed -- just as she'd thought -- loudly.

"Explain," Harry continued.

Hermione grinned. It might be a wan specimen of her normal grin, but it was a true grin nonetheless. Looking from side to side, in exaggerated, theatrical caution, she leaned forward even more and began telling her tale, starting with her mother's amnesia, continuing with Professor Snape's recognition of her mother and his list of questions, and ending with the bald comment he'd offered before he'd fled from her and Professor McGonagall.

Through the entire story, Harry and Ron remained silent, transfixed, as if her story was the most fascinating they'd ever heard. It made her feel good. While she didn't normally want the spot light, it felt good, for once, to be the cneter of the attention of both of her two quidditch obsessed friends.

"Wow," Harry breathed when she finished.

"Wicked!" Ron supplied, then chuckled, sounding suspiciously evil. "The ferret's gonna go mental when he finds out!"

"Ron!" Harry snapped. "Like Mione's going to care about that."

Hermione giggled, actually giggled; though she felt a little guilty for the pleasurable feeling that cause it. "That was one of my first thoughts, too," she admitted, smiling at Ron and sending a rather sheepishly, apologetic look at Harry.

Ron grinned back, sending her two thumbs up.

Harry shrugged, grinning, himself. "Got to admit, the thought of his expression when he finds out _is_ kinda . . . satisfying."

The three friends all shared a moment of pleased, anticipatory silence until Hermione jumped up, eager to get started. "Well, lets find out if we get to rub Malfoy's mistakes in his face or not," she suggested, immediately heading toward the stacks that she knew held the books they would need to search. There were about forty of them in all. She just hoped they could find what they were looking for sooner, rather than later. The boys might back out on her if it took _too_ long.

All told, it took them almost two and a half hours to find the entry the were looking for. Athena Elizabeth. . . . "Oh, Bloody effing Merlin!"

"What?" Hermione asked, staring at Ron after his outburst, too thankful she had kept up the privacy ring around the table to remember to chastise him for his language, not to mention worried about what he had found.

Harry, too, was ignoring the book in front of him, his gaze questioning as it rested on their best friend.

Ron shook his head, as if in denial and Hermione's worry grew. Instead of answering, hwoever, he simply pushed the book he had been looking through to the center of the table, spinning it around so both she and Harry could read it. He pointed.

"Oh my God!" Harry exclaimed, his gaze slowly moving from the entry to rest, incredulous, on Hermione.

For her part, Hermione simply stared at the entry in complete disbelief. "No way!" she exclaimed finally, not wanting to believe it. She shook her head frantically, rising as if in a dream and slowly backing away from the damning entry.

Harry and Ron both jumped up and stopped her backward retreat, pulling her back inside the privacy ring.

"It's alright, Mione!" Harry said pointedly. "It's just a name."

"right, Herm," Ron echoed, "just a name," though he didn't sound nearly as convincing as Harry.

She blinked disbelievingly at her two friends, not bothering to correct Ron's nickname, not this time. "Alright?" she shrieked. "Alright? My _mother_ was a Malfoy, and you're saying it's _alright_?!"

Harry and Ron traded a quick look and both shrugged, again nearly in unison. "Deson't change who you are," they said together.

"So, yeah," Harry continued, "no big."

Letting out an irritated huff, Hermione shook her head and stepped tentatively forward until she could see the damnable entry once again.

**Athena Elizabeth Malfoy**

She couldn't believe it. She was first cousins with the blond ferret! They shared _grandparents_! The bloody ferret's father was her _uncle_!

She shook herself out of her shock. "We have to put the books back," she said suddenly, picking up four of them.

They began picking up books also, following closely behind her.

"Why?" Ron asked. "Madam Pince usually puts them back up. She prefers it that way."

"I know, Ron," Hermione replied, quickly replacing the ones she held, moving on to the ones they had. "I just don't want anyone to find out what we were researching, not yet."

They shrugged and continued to help her. In no time at all they'd finished and were headed up to Gryffindor tower, each of them lost in thought.

Her mother was a pureblood! She frowned as she climbed. Who was her father? It was a question she'd never really thought all that much about, not since she'd been told her mother couldn't remember the time before waking up in hospital the day she and Hermione's father -- well, stepfather, really -- had met.

Now, however, the question took on a whole new level of meaning. She wondered whether or not she should try and find out. The problem with that, was that the only way she knew of to establish paternity, needed both her blood _and_ the blood of her suspected father. It wouldn't help her until she at least had a candidate.

Professor Snape had known her, maybe he would know who her mother had dated. He'd reacted strongly enough that he was bound to have known her pretty well, like they were friends, or something.

Now she just had to ditch the guys.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: oh, yes please!


	3. Chapter Four and Five

**Pstibbons:** Thanks. : ) Ummm . . . Keogh?  
**Makaem:** Yes, Hermione would be in 'The Book'. She would be listed as the founding member at this point. Yes, who her parents are would be listed, but -- hah, bet you knew there'd be a but. LOL -- my theory is that these books, not having any kind of contact with bodily fluids of any sort with the people they are tracking, would not be completely accurate if the memories of the people involved (at the time of recording or updating) are not also accurate. Hence, Hermione's parents being listed as the Grangers. There would be no maiden name listed for Mrs. Granger, as she had no clue what her maiden name would have been -- or would have been listed as the one she chose for herself before she married, as at that point, that _was_ as much her name as any name she may have been born with. As to her father, it could have quite possibly been blurred or listed as unknown when she was born, but as Mrs. Granger and Hermione's hearts' belief of the man as her father, whether birth or not, grew so would the 'magic' surrounding that kind of thing. Faith, in whatever form, can be a powerful thing. : ) Hope that helps. And Thanks! You really made me think that all the way through.

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Chapter Four  
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It didn't take Hermione long to find Professor Snape with the help of the Marauders Map. Harry had loaned it to her, under a little protest, wanting to come with her. Ron hadn't been any better. Even now, she wasn't quite sure just how she had managed to ditch the two boys, she just knew they really couldn't be there when she confronted Professor Snape. Somehow, she thought their presence just might make an already tense situation even worse.

The map led her to a part of the dungeons she had never been to before and she had a sneaking suspicion she was standing outside the professor's private chambers. It almost made her change her mind; almost made her decide to wait until tomorrow to ask for answers. She shook the temptation off. She had to know what the professor knew. She couldn't wait. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if she did.

Before she lost her courage, Hermione pounded on his door, shifting nervously from side to side as she waited for him to answer . . . if he was _going_ to answer.

The door was suddenly wrenched open and she jumped.

The professor glared, sneering at her. "What do _you_ want?" he snarled.

"How did you know my mother, Professor?" she asked, the question coming out relatively politely, considering the bite that had been in Professor Snape's voice. Being extra polite was the only way she was going to get any information at all, she knew that all too well.

"_You_ are the luckiest little girl in this school tonight, Miss Granger," he sneered, his lip curling even as he backed up a single step, impatiently waving her into the room.

Hermione gasped. "H-how c-can you say that?" she asked in outrage, striding three angry steps forward and whirling back around to face him. She'd just lost her parents! In no way could that be labeled as 'lucky'.

Now his sneer morphed into a smirk as he slammed the door shut. "Because I am just inebriated enough not to care, overly much, that you have impertinantly invaded my personal space and are using up my precious, very limited, spare time."

_Oh!_ Pausing a moment to digest that. She should have added that to her calculations when she was deciding what to do. _Damn! Too late now, though,_ she thought and repeated her question, her voice still quiet, barely above a whisper, all her anger bleeding away in an instant. She really wanted to know, had to know actually. Curiosity was beginning to eat her alive.

His face darkened and he stared at her in silence for so long that she was sure he wasn't going to tell her.

She sagged in disappointment, turning to leave. She would just have to find out somehow else.

"I was--" His words stalled and she froze midstep, then slowly turned back around. "She and I--" He let out a huff, looking incredibly frustrated.

Hermione knew the feeling. Oh, boy, did she know it well!

"We dated," he finally said, flatly.

Hermione's mind went blank. She just stared. She could in absolutely no way process this new information.

"Umm, what?" she asked, the only words she could force out.

"You heard me, you daft child! I will not repeat myself."

Hermione nearly giggled. She could almost hear the petulant 'and you can't make me'. She very quickly took a deep breath and held it. She would get blasted out of the room -- possibly the school -- if she lost it now.

"You dated," she returned just as flatly as he had delivered the information, neither believing nor disbelieving. Then, her eyes widened in horror, a rather nauseating though occurring to her, the words and timing of her story to the two professors suddenly coming back to haunt her. "When?" she demanded.

He just stared at her, his black eyes seeming to penetrate to her soul.

"When did you date my mother?" she demanded again.

"It's--" he began after several eternal moments, his voice sounding strangled, "--possible."

She blinked. That didn't answer her question!

_Yes, it did,_ the tiny voice of her conscience taunted her, _not the one you asked out loud, perhaps, but the one you were worried about, nonetheless._

"Prove it!" Hermione demanded angrily, recklessly.

"Why you blasted, cheeky, little insufferable know-it-all! Are you bloody well calling me a liar?" he demanded incredulously.

"I'm call you drunk. I'm calling you m--" Her anger abruptly derailing into a touch of fear, she cut off her own tirade. "Actually, I would like to know for sure, before I finish that," she said, sounding surprisingly calm, even to her own ears.

Snape sneered again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, even more than normal. "And just how do you propose we do that?"

That was it. As easy as that she was angry again. "You know as well as I do that there's a potion for that!" she snapped.

"Oh, _really_," he snarled, stepping closer. "And just what was the _perfect_ Gryffindor Granger doing looking up paternity potions for? Get yourself into a spot of trouble and not know which one of your irresponsible _friends_ was the culprit?"

"No!" she denied hotly. "I'm-- Not that it's any of your business, but I brewed it for a friend."

"Some friends you've chosen."

"Look to your own house, _Professor_," Hermione snapped, angry with his continued condescension. "It was a bloody Slytherin that refused to take responsibility for his actions!"

That seemed to derail the professor, obviously not having expected that.

She smirked, but her expression changed quickly as Professor Snape finished closing the distance between them in two short strides, not stopping until he was well within her personal space. He sneered down at her, using his height to his full advantage. "_You_ brewed it?" he snapped out.

"Yes!"

"You're lucky you didn't screw up your so-called friend's life. That potion is complex."

"Not as difficult as polyjuice," she snapped back, too far gone in her growing outrage to truly realize just what she was saying.

His smirk was back, triumphant and evil. "Well, we all know how well you did with that particular potion, don't we?" he sneered down at her.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You botched your pathetic attempt at polyjuice, simple as that."

"I did not!" she denied hotly.

"Then how do you explain a week spent in the infirmary as a human sized _cat_?"

"Wrong hair," she mumbled, then rallied. "It worked perfectly for--" She clamped her mouth shut before she could do more harm than she already had.

Snape pounced. "Potter and Weasley!" he crowed. "I _knew_ they had to be mixed up in that. Who did they turn into?" he demanded, eyes afire with unholy glee.

Wondering how on earth they'd managed to get this far off the subject, renewed panic coursing through her, Hermione lifted her chin and stubbornly kept her mouth closed. She'd already blabbed far too much tonight. He wasn't getting anything more out of her.

He scoffed. "Go back to your room, Miss Granger," he said sourly. "This is--"

"Don't you want to know?" she whispered, desperately afraid he was going to send her away without knowing the truth.

"_That_ is immaterial, Miss Granger. I--"

"How can it be immaterial!?"

"Do not intrrupt me!"

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"As I informed you earlier, I am in no condition to be brewing this evening. I--"

"I could do it," she said quickly, nearly cringing when she realized she'd interrupted him again, wondering how she'd managed to get this far without losing every single house point that Gryffindor had earned this year. The professor must be as off center about this situation as she was -- either that or alcohol _really_ mellowed the man.

He just stared at her, looking, for the first time in Hermione's recall, visibly torn. It hit her then, he really did want to know, possibly just as much as she did. He simply hid it better. He hadn't just been brushing her off with an excuse when he'd claimed to be 'in no condition'.

She agreed, frankly. Potion brewing could be dangerous if the brewer wasn't careful, sometimes even when the brewer was. All it took, depending on what was being brewed, was one little mistake and whoosh, no more brewer.

Carefully, quietly, she spoke, trying to convince him. "I really can do it, Professor. Besides," she added thoughtfully, "you'd be there, watching every step of the way. You might not be up to brewing it this minute, but I'm sure that even if you were dead drunk, you would still be able to supervise." She paused, watching her inebriated professor very closely.

She almost smiled when she realized he was pleased at her assesssment -- hiding it, but pleased nonetheless. Frankly, she was proud of herself for noticing the subtle signs. Of course, she was under no illusions that she would have seen anything had he been stone cold sober. "Please?" she added.

Hermione knew the moment the professor relented. There was just the slightest softening of his expression. She would have missed it if she hadn't been watching him so closely. He nodded just after it, confirming her deduction.

"Very well, Miss Granger. You will have _one_ chance."

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, just barely holding in an excited bounce. She really didn't think it would go over well if she let it loose.

He glared at her, his dark eyes even more intent than usual. "The very moment you do not listen, Miss Granger, this foray into graduate potions is over, without recourse," he told her firmly, then demanding, "are we clear?"

"We're clear, Professor, as crystal," she replied, trying to school her expression to seriousness, but not quite succeeding. She was simply too excited. She wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if she didn't know she could do it. She had already brewed it once, after all.

Her conscience merely scoffed, not bothering to berate her denial.

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Chapter Five  
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Hermione watched silently, nerves screaming at her, as she watched the potion she'd just finished brewing cool. Ten minutes more and she would know, they _both_ would know. Frankly, she was torn in about six different directions. Part of her really wanted to potion to come up negative; having a living, breathing, _present_ biological father almost seemed like a betrayal to the man she'd grown up knowing as a father. A larger part of her, however, wanted it to be true; though, her common sense screamed at her for that too. This was Professor Snape, after all.

Her social life was already almost nonexistant. What would happen if-- _when_ the school found out she was Professor Snape's daughter? Would the other students shun her even more? What would Harry and Ron say? _To heck with that!_ she thought impatiently. They'd come around eventually. The really big sticking point was; would the professor try to tell her she couldn't associate with them any more? She worried her lip as she continued to wait. She was actiually worried about that one a little bit, not that his doing so would actually stop her from being their friend. It would just make for a completely miserable 7th year.

_Okay, that possibility goes in the con column._

Oh, but wouldn't it be fun to rub Malfoy's nose it it?

_And that will take the number one slot in the pro column!_ she thought in glee, then laughed at herself. Like her mental list of pros and cons would accomplish anything. Either he was her father or he wasn't. Whether she wanted it to be true or not, had no bearing on the situation what-so-ever. Another glance at the timer had her sighing deeply, the phrase, 'a wtached pot never boils' coming immediately to mind. Still nine minutes to go, one less than the last time she'd checked.

She glanced at the door Professor Snape had left through and smirked to herself. The professor had taken a soberup potion the moment they'd arrived in his private lab. Unfortunately, the soberup and hangover potions couldn't be taken together; ironic that. The moment they had set the potion to cooling, he had strode out of the lab -- after admonishing her to touch nothing, of course -- to take the hangover potion, she presumed. It was either that or a simple headache curative. Either would work, she imagined, since he'd been drinking tea by the litre while she'd worked.

Of course, he _could_ simply have needed to use the loo, all things considered. She almost laughed at the thought. She certainly would have been floating if she'd drank as much tea as he had.

Hermione jumped as the timer went off. She debated with herself for about ten seconds. He had said not to touch _anything_. Unfortunately, he wasn't back yet and the potion needed to be filtered and decanted. That couldn't wait very long or the potion would be ruined and they'd have to start over. She waited another five seconds before deciding to get yelled at for 'touching anything' rather than get yelled for allowing the potion to be ruined and wasting ingredients.

The filters and vials were already set up and waiting. She eyed them hesitantly, for only a moment longer before jumping up and beginning the second to last step in the brewing.

She was just finishing up when the professor hurried through the same door he left by. She jumped, tense, when the door slammed behind him. She mentally cringed as she stepped back from the freshly decanted vials, waiting for the yelling to start.

"Good," he said firmly, not bothering to look at her, surprising her.

She almost grinned, until she remember he just might take back his tacit approval if she did.

"Work up a good mouthful of saliva, Miss Granger," he ordered. "We'll need a 1/4 teaspoon."

_I know,_ she thought. _I just brewed this three weeks ago,_ but didn't say. "Yes, Sir," she replied dipolmatically, instead. One had to learn diplomacy just to get out of potions class without losing an outrageous number of house points. She had yet to go an entire week without losing any, but at least, now that she was in a class without Neville -- or Ron for that matter -- she was no longer losing them every single class.

The professor collected her spit and placed it carefully in the first vial, setting the timer immediately. She watched him as he collected his own, waiting until her timer had only 30 seconds left then placed it in the second vial, setting another timer. While they waited, he set out a strip of specially made double thick parchment steeped in werster bile.

Getting really restless now, she was very glad they only had to wait 60 seconds before beginning the final step. If it was any longer, she thought she might be in real danger of going mad. Her timer went off -- 30 seconds left on the professor's. He immediately poured four drops onto the strip.

They locked gazes for a split second when his timer went off.

She watched intently as he poured four drops from his vial onto the same strip.

Now they must wait -- again.

Hermione's mouth was extraordinarily dry and she really wished she had some of that tea the professor had been drinking. Nervous energy hummed through her and she began finding it very difficult to sit still. She fought against the urge to fidget, however, knowing full well that the professor would find it highly annoying.

_Black means negative, powerblue means positive,_ she thought, reminding herself of what she already knew, now biting her lip in anticipation. She started tapping her foot impatiently, stilling it the moment she realized what she was doing. She stole a quick, covert glance at the professor before snapping her eyes back to the strip. There was no change, yet.

_How long is this bloody going to take!?_

She made another quick, stolen glance and was glad she could tell that he was nervous also, his entire body one tense line. _He certainly hides it better than I do,_ she thought, a touch resentful of that fact. If she hadn't know better she would have been willing to swear he didn't care about the outcome one way or the other.

Suddenly, the strip started darkening and Hermione almost laughed as they both leaned closer, the move so simultaneous as to look choreographed. Ten seconds later they were both staring at the powder blue strip in stark disbelief.

She was Professor Snape's daughter. He was her father.

_Wow!_ was all she could think. Slowly she raised her eyes as she dared her first full look at the wizard.

The professor was already staring at her intently, his expression completely unreadable. What did he really think of the whole thing?

Some devilish portion of her grabbed hold of her voice and ran away with it. "Does this mean I get to call you Dad?" she asked, her eyes widening almost immediately, panic setting in as she realized what her mouth had done while her brain was too busy being gobsmacked.

The professor eyes narrowed dangerously, and his mouth tightened into a thin, unforgiving line. "Not in clasee," he snapped suddenly, sharply, then spun on one heel and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Ummm, okay," Hermione said to the now empty room, then it dawned on her exactly what he'd said. She blinked several times, staring blankly at the firmly closed door, her brain processing his words. "Wait a minute!" she exclaimed. "Does that mean I can call you that _outside_ of class?"

Of course, no one answered, the room was still empty aside from her.

"The next big question, absent professor, is whether or not I'm allowed to tell anyone."

The moment the words were out of her mouth, the door slammed back open--

_Does he go _anywhere _without slamming doors?_

--and Professor Snape swooped back into the room, trademark flaring of his robes included.

"Can I tell anyone?" she blurted. It took her several seconds to realize he'd asked a related question.

"Do you want anyone to know?"

She stiffened, pulling herself up to her full height, as unimpressive as that was. "I'm not ashamed," she replied firmly, chin jutting out stubbornly, challengingly, virtually daring the wizard to say that _he_ was. Inside, however, she was trembling, deeply afraid he was going to do just that.

"You may tell whomever you wish," he replied quietly.

She grinned instantly. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, jumping forward before she thought and impulsively hugged the stern professor . . . her father. Her eyes widened instantly, her jaw dropping and she hastily stepped back, moving away before he could respond, either to return the unexpected affection, or to push her away. She suspected the latter was far more likely.

"Oh!" she gasped, darting for the door before he could remember that he could still take points for presumption, father or not.

"Are you going to?" he asked, freezing her in place, her hand on the door knob. "Tell anyone," he explained when she turned a puzzled look his direction.

She grinned, ducking her head as an unexpected shyness stole over her. She nodded once and flung open the door and scurrying to safety. She missed the split second smile that twitched up one corner of her normally stern potions professor's mouth.

She was half way back to Gryffindor tower when she abruptly switched directions. She was simply aching to tell the boys, but there was someone else who deserved to know, who deserved to know first. If her head of house -- stern and strict demenor or not -- was anything like her, the witch was probably plotting six different ways to discover the story behind Professor Snape's actions and words at the muggle morgue.

The blast of pain at that thought stopped her cold, tears immediately clouding her vision. It took several deep breaths before she could begin thinking clearly again. The moment she did, she sent up a quiet message, hoping it would be heard and accepted. "I love you, Daddy, and I always will," she whispered, "and I hope you understand," she added, truly hoping she wasn't betraying his memory by all this. "Mum, I don't know if you can hear me, but I hope I can find out what happened to you."

Feeling just a little bit better, her grief once again tucked away inside her, Hermione hurried forward. It really didn't take long to reach McGonagall's office. She paused before knocking, not really sure the witch would be there. It was late, after all. She hoped she was. Hermione really didn't think she would be as lucky if she tracked a second professor back to their private quarters.

"If she's not here," Hermione promised, "I'll just tell Harry and Ron first and tell her tomorrow, first thing." That settled, she knocked on the door. To her relief the professor answered almost immediately, though, she was obviously surprised to see Hermione there.

"Miss Granger!" she exclaimed, her expression instantly worried. "Is something wrong?"

Suddenly, Hermione found herself without her voice and simply shook her head quickly. She cleared her throat and tried a second time. "I just had a long talk with Professor Snape. Do you have a moment?"

McGonagall's eyes widened. "By all means, Miss Granger. Come in, Child."

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: It's craved!


	4. Chapter Six

Sampdoria: Thanks! : ) Who, indeed. ::grin:: That'll come soon. And you're definitely right about 'a daughter to be proud of'. : )  
Makaem: Sorry to disappoint about the McGonagall convo. :( I didn't actually do that one. But Malfoy, now _that_ is a major part of the story. hehe  
Pstribbons: Just a younger friend lol no one important to the story. Thanks. As to 'matching' Keogh, lol probably not. This is pretty much a short fic that focuses so much more on the Malfoy/Hermione interaction (not pairing ewww in this case) each one trying to get the better of the other lol rather than on interaction between Snape and Hermione.  
Everyone: Thanks so much for your reviews and encouragement. : )

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Chapter Six  
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Being Head Girl had its privledges and having her own room was one of them, but there were some blatant drawbacks as well. One of which, in this particular case, happened to be having her own room. Apparently, neither Harry nor Ron had expected her back in Gryffindor tower after she'd left last night, so by the time Professor McGonagall had escorted her back to her room and she had subsequently snuck out to the tower, both of the blasted boys had gone to bed.

She shrugged, at least she'd been able to tell Professor McGonagall last night. If she hadn't, she didn't think she'd have been able to sleep a wink. She'd have been bursting with the need to tell someone, almost anyone. She giggled, her hand clamping over her mouth as soon as the sound emerged. It was so . . . undignified and reminded her uncomfortably of every air-headed, boy crazy girl she'd ever met and despised.

But, her head of house's nearly strangled, 'Oh, my!' had been utterly priceless, the look on her face as close to gobsmacked as Hermione had ever seen the stern older witch, and that included when the woman had heard the 'troll story' Halloween night of Hermione's first year. Hermione sighed as she emerged from her room. As it stood now, the boys were going to have to work for their answers, just because that's the way she felt. She'd had to wait to tell them, now they would have to wait to hear. It was petty, she knew that, but hell, who cared. She laughed shaking her head. She was entitled once in a while.

Without bothering to stop by the tower, Hermione made her way to the great hall. Considering she was early today, she would probably have a good half hour to get a good start on her breakfast before the boys showed up, which was fine by her. She figured she would probably be too busy laughing once they arrived to eat much.

_Keep telling yourself that and you might actually believe it._

She sighed heavily as she pushed open the doors to the great hall. Okay, she admitted, she was very nervous about telling them. While she was sure they would accept her news. . . eventually, she was not at all sure about how they would take it inititally. Professor Snape wasn't exactly their favorite person in the world -- not that she really blamed them. After all, he wasn't exactly her favorite person in the world, either. Which made it rather difficult to figure out how to explain to them just why she wanted this, why she was willing to explore the possibilites.

She snorted. She wasn't even sure she _knew_ why, so how was she supposed to even begin explaining to anyone else? All she did know, was she had spent most of her life believing that she would never know anything about her biological father, not even his name, so she was going to seize this opportunity and make the most of it. At least he had turned out to be someone on the 'right' side of the war, even if he wasn't the nicest person in the world.

"Move, Granger."

_Malfoy!_ Hermione automatically sneered silently, then couldn't stop the knowing smirk from blooming across her face as she turned to face the ferret faced prat. "I don't think I will," she replied quietly, smugly, dredging up every ounce of her old sense of superiority. "I think I'll simply stay in your way, just like I've been in your way since year one."

Malfoy glared at her, so angry he was trembling in rage. "How _dare_ you, you filthy little mudblood!" he snarled

"Ah, ah, ah," Hermione admonished, her tone full of falsely weary disappointment. Inside, however, she was jumping with unmitigated glee. "Slandering a fellow student, as Head Girl, I could take points for that."

Malfoy sneered, condescension rife in both his expression and his voice. "To slander someone, I'd have to lie about them, Granger." He paused and cocked his head to the side, to all appearances looking very puzzled. "Are you absolutely sure you didn't cheat in order to get top scores?" he asked. "It seems to me anyone who doesn't know the meaning of such a simple word would have to."

"Of course I didn't, Malfoy!" Hermione snapped, momentarily losing control of her temper, "and you well know it!" A deep breath later, however, had her temper firmly back under her control. If she really wanted to get one over on Malfoy, she needed to stay calm -- outwardly at least. "And yes," she continued, grinning at him. "You are partially right."

"Partially!" he exclaimed, irritably, then frowned suspiciously. "Which part?"

She knew she had him then, his innate curiosity had him wriggling on her hook, even if he didn't yet know enough to wriggle. "Lying about someone is, indeed, slander," she said, watching as Malfoy's smugness grew exponentially. "But so is spreading false rumors, regardless of whether or not the slanderer is aware of said falsity."

Malfoy's frown deepened for several seconds until his expression lit up in delayed undersatnding of what she meant. He laughed then, really laughed. It started out as a quiet snicker, then bloomed into belly laughs so forceful he had to brace himself against the wall.

Crabbe and Goyle simply stood there, watching, looking completely lost.

Hermione rolled her eyes and waited, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Are you trying to tell me," Malfoy began, once he had regained minimal control over himself, "that you don't think you're a filthy mudblood?!"

Hermione leaned forward conspiratorially.

Malfoy stepped back, of course, but she didn't let that stop her, or bother her for that matter.

"Frankly, Malfoy, I _know_ I'm not, so I suggest you stop infering it before you make an even bigger fool of yourself." So saying, Hermione turned on her heel and strode the rest of the way into the great hall, feeling particularly good about the exchange.

"Mudblood," Malfoy hissed, just loudly enough for her to hear.

She didn't bother turning around as she called out. "Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy," she said calmly, "for slander."

Now, she thought with malicious glee, either Malfoy would drive himself crazy trying to figure out what she meant, and since there wasn't really any proof of what she said anywhere -- not unless the researcher had a lot more information than Malfoy did -- he wouldn't find a damn thing. Or, alternately, he'd be laughing it up all over school how the Granger chit had gone completely nutters and was claiming not to be mugleborn -- or maybe he might even continue using that vile term. Either way, he would be eating a substantial amount of crow when the truth finally came out.

Right now, he was already laughing it up with his two goons.

"And what, pray tell, was _that_ all about, Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione's step hitched, and she virtually ached to turn around and watch, the moment she heard Professor Snape's voice. She didn't, though. Instead, she continued on toward the Gryffindor table as if nothing had happened. Unfortunately, that placed her well out of hearing distance.

x-x-x

Draco smirked as he turned toward his head of house, utterly certain the house points Granger had taken would be returned, one way or another. "Granger took those points claiming slander," he protested, making sure to put just the right amount of aggrieved outrage in his voice and then carefully summerizing the encounter.

Professor Snape's eyebrow cocked upward, the eyebrow that Draco was willing to swear was actually evil. "That," he replied drily, "was not the word _I_ heard you use."

Draco winced slightly. That might make things a little more difficult. Even his head of house drew the line at using such language at the school; though, Draco knew the older wizard had used the word himself. Draco had heard him more than once -- just not while _at_ the school. "Well, perhaps I did allow myself to degenerate into name calling," he admitted, trying his best to sound and look contrite.

"In that case, Mr. Malfoy, since you've freely admitted your guilt, I have no choice--"

"What?" He had done no such thing; though, he sure didn't openly contradict his head of house. Bad things happened when students did that, even Slytherins. But, damn it! He hadn't _slandered_ the chit. "--but to remove three points from Slytherin."

Draco's jaw dropped. He snapped it shut quickly. "But _she_ already took points!" he protested, wanting to sew his mouth shut with a sealing spell the moment the words were out of his mouth.

"For the use of foul language in front of a professor."

Draco blinked. What? "Does that mean," he began tentatively, careful to use proper address this time, "the points that Miss Granger removed for _slander_ have been returned?"

"If you wish points that you believe have been wrongly taken to be returned, Mr. Malfoy, there is a proper procedure to follow, as you well know. Do not bother me with such . . . trivialities."

Once again, Draco's jaw dropped as the professor strode away. The professor had always given points to conteract the ones taken unjustly. He'd never bothered with the 'formalities' before. Eyes narrowing, he swiftly recovered, plots already forming. He would make Granger sorry she had crossed him. He would make an idiot out of her . . . in front of the whole school.

The points tribunal had never been used, not in the entire time he'd been going to Hogwarts. There was a reason for that. Most people weren't interested enough in the lost points to work out their grievance before a panel of the professors in front of the entire student body. He grinned. Oh, yes. Miss Hermione Mudblood Granger would rue the day she had tried to cross Draco Lucius Malfoy, pureblood scion of wizarding society.

x-x-x

About the time that Professor Snape swept up to the staff table, Ron and Harry sat down across from her. Grinning, she leaned forward. "What is Malfoy doing?" she whispered, without waiting for either of the two to greet her.

"He's glaring over here," Harry said after a quick look.

Ron frowned, casting his own glare toward the Slytherin table. "What did that git do to you, Mione?"

Harry, on the other hand, obviously took in her grin, and her barely controlled bouncing excitement. He smirked. "I think the better question, Ron, would be; Hermione, what did you do to that git?"

Hermione's grin blossomed into a full face, ear-to-ear smile. "I beat him at his own game," she replied primly, her tone in absolutely no way a match for her behavior, "that's what I did to him."

"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed, now grinning as well.

"Tell us," both said, sharing identical, conspiritor smiles.

And she did tell them. She recounted the entire encounter, beginning from the moment Malfoy approached. By the time she was done, however, both boys looked beyond confused, and had shared more than one puzzled glance to each other. Hremione didn't care. She knew what they didn't, quite yet. But as per her plan, they were going to have to actually work to get it.

"Um, Hermione," Harry began tentatrively. "I'm glad you're excited and all, but, um, isn't slander the same as lies?"

"Pretty much, Harry," Hermione smirked, waiting for when one of them finally actually had the nerve to _ask_.

Ron's frown deepened enough to scrunch his forehead into that puzzled look she so delighted in. "But, for that word, bad as it is, to be slander you would have to not be a muggleborn, right, Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron, that's right," she replied, this time with exaggerated patience, after all they both knew that much about her. Her mother was a Malfoy, so _obviously_ she wasn't muggleborn!

Ron frowned at her.

"Well, technically, she's not, Ron, I mean, remember who her mother turned out to be?"

Ron's eyes widened in surprise, his expression immediately warping into sheepish chagrin. "Oh," he replied, ducking his head, "yeah, I forgot."

He _forgot_?! How? She certainly couldn't. Despite her shock, she couldn't help feeling warmed that he had. It showed just how much it _really_ didn't matter to him. It healed a little part of her that was thoroughly disgusted at being so closely related to the ferret.

"Okay," Harry said suddenly, interrupting her mental glow, "I'll bite. Why would Malfoy calling you that nasty word be slander? Despite who your mother is, you're still-- I mean, I'm sure _they_ use that word to refer to half-bloods too. And your father was muggle."

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked, casting a very falsely innocent glance at each of them.

"No, it isn't, Hermione," Harry said at the same time as Ron's, "no, Mione, it's not."

"Well, my father _isn't_ a muggle. If you'll recall my story," she said, grinning. Leaning closer, she lowered her voice so only they could hear her, "my mother was already pregnant when she met my father."

The two boys blinked at her in utter silence, and for one horrid moment, Hermione wondered if she'd actually broken them. She hadn't meant to do that!

She glanced down at her half empty plate and pretended to resume eating -- not that she was actually going to put any more food in her stomach. She was far too nervous for that. Half of her enjoyment of drawing this out so much was the fact that she still didn't know how they were going to take the news she had yet to tell them.

"Alright, Hermione," Harry said softly. Grinning and shaking his head, he crawled off the bench. "Come on, I, for one, want to hear the full details behind this, 'isn't a muggle' -- present tense -- story."

"Why are you leaving, then?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"I kinda figured you wouldn't want the specifics as public consumption. At least, not if you really plan on driving Malfoy crazy with it."

Hermione's eyes widened. How could she have forgotten, quiet wasn't quiet enough in the great hall. "Good point, Harry."

Ron scrambled up a moment later. "Come on, Hermione!" he urged impatiently.

Rolling her eyes and laughing, Hermione stood, striding toward the exit. When both her best friends caught up with her, she grinned at them. "You really _must_ be fascinated by all this, Ron," she said.

"Well, yeah, but what makes you say that?"

Giggling, she stopped moving and turned to fully face him. "Because we just left the great hall and you didn't eat a _thing_ for breakfast."

Ron groaned, loudly, clutching at his suddenly remembered empty stomach. "Bloody hell, Mione!"

Hermione laughed reluctantly, not really pleased with Ron's language, but couldn't quite bring herself to reprimand him since he looked so torn. He really wanted to find out what was going on, but he didn't wnt to skip breakfast, either. Unfortunately, there wasn't time for both. Their first class would start in less than 45 minutes.

She shrugged. She could always relate it to him later, or Harry could. "Your choice, Ron," she said easily, turning to walk away.

Ron whimpered, casting one last longing glance back at the closed doors of the great hall and followed her and Harry.

She grinned, but kept it well hidden. It made her feel good that she was more important to _Ron_ than food!

Harry took pity on him, hand`ng over a blue berry muffin he'd snagged.

"Thanks, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, brightening considerably. He tore the muffin in half, steam rising up from the center and held part of it out toward Harry.

Harry laughed and pulled out a second one. "I snagged two," he explained, biting into his own muffin.

Ron didn't need any more encouragement and devoured his as well.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: Pretty please. It makes my day.


	5. Chapter Seven and Eight

Makaem: With Severus having recognized her like he did, I suppose Lucius should have as well. Ooops I plead the fifth . . . or perhaps that people have the amazing ability to see what they expect to see in a given situation. The distance with which he saw her would help with that, as well as the fact that they weren't exactly facing each other. Yeah, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. LOL  
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Chapter Seven  
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Severus strode down to his quarters, after having swallowed down two cups of the vile beverage called coffee and leaving his breakfast virtually untouched but for half a slice of buttered toast. Normally, he drank tea, like any civilized person, but today, he had needed the extra boost called _caffeine_. And as for actually eating food? That had not even been on the adgenda, not after last night combined with the confrontation with his godson. He sighed as he closed the door to his quarters behind him. He may have only thirty minutes left before class, but he needed to center himself, or all hell was going to break loose.

Sinking down into his favorite chair, the one located so close to the fire as to nearly be _in_ it, Severus shook his head. He never thought he would see the day that Mafloy Jr's antics toward any of the 'Golden Trio' would truly upset him.

_Mark the calender, folks!_ Severus thought with something approaching mild hysteria _Professor I-Hate-Gryffindors Snape, sides with a Gryffindor over a Slytherin._

A deep breath, well two, later, Severus had himself back in hand. He chuckled a bit, thinking back on the conversation between Granger and Draco. She had set the spoiled prat up perfectly, even he had to admit it. She had used his biggest weaknesses against him and the boy was going to make an idiot of himself -- and _he_ had helped! There was no way the boy could even remotely suspect just _who_ Granger's mother had been, let alone who the girl's _father_ was.

"That's it," he muttered into the empty room, "the world as we know it, is over."

He shook his head a second time. Well, aside from being a Gryffindor, and her usual distressing lack of subtlety, and her inability to keep _any_ of her knowledge to herself, he supposed he could have ended up with a worse daughter. Who was he to criticize social ineptness in others. He wasn't exactly Mr. Manners, himself. At least she was intelligent, adept at potions, and could, apparently, hold her own against the priviledged prats of the world -- certainly against one Mr. Draco Malfoy.

He sighed one last time, setting aside his contemplations. If he wanted to get to his class on time, he would have to leave now. As he stepped toward the door, however, a memory swept over him -- his last memory of Athena Malfoy, in fact.

x-x-x

Hermione stood. They weren't really through talking about the new development in her life -- not to mention the plot against Malfoy -- but they were out of time for now. They had potions in the dungeons in less than 15 minutes and they were currently on the 7th floor. She pulled down the privacy spells she had put up -- all five of them, despite being in the ROR -- and gathered her things. The boys were doing that as well, both of them still looking beyond gobsmacked.

"Wait," Ron said suddenly. "Do we have to pretend not to know this stuff?" he asked, wearing a sadly plaintive expression.

Suppressing a smile, Hermione shook her head.

"I mean, it's just that, I-- we don't want to get you in trouble with the greas-- sorry -- with--"

Hermione glared, cutting off Ron's revelation. The privacy spells weren't up anymore, assuring them -- as much as possible -- of privacy.

"No, Ron, you don't have to pretend," she assured aloud.

He wilted in relief. "Good! I don't think I'm that good of an actor."

Harry chuckled. "Me, either," he admitted, even as Hermione spoke again, this time as the three of them were headed down the corridor.

"I know you aren't, and ditto to you, Harry."

"Neither are you," she got back in chorus, the two of them suddenly laughing at her.

She pulled herself up, exuding all the haughty arrogance she could muster -- which even she had to admit was quite a bit -- and glared. "I think I acted superbly in front of Malfoy this morning," she said pompously, sticking her nose up in the air sharply. She spoiled the affect a minute later by laughing, though.

"I hate to break it to you, Hermione, but that wasn't acting," Harry said, shaking his head, sporting a rather crooked grin.

"It wasn't?" she huffed indignantly.

"No," he replied, shaking his head.

"Well," she asked imperiously, "what was it, then?"

"That," Ron answered firmly, instead of Harry, "was you being all superior just because you knew something Malfoy didn't."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, though, his eyes were a bit wary. "Exactly," he added, "something that, um, comes naturally."

Hermione's eyes widened briefly as she thought about feeling incredibly insulted. Fortunately, her sense of humor reasserted itself just in time, and she laughed instead. "Good point," she admitted, grinning sheepishly.

Just as they entered the dungeons, the boys shared a look, a silent debate occuring that Hermione wondered what was about. In the end, Harry turned toward her, evidently having been chosen as spokesman -- somehow.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" he asked.

"About what, Harry?"

"About not pretending, 'cuz, I mean, did you, well," he sighed obviously frustrated with his stumbling words, "get permission, or something? Not that you need permission," he continued hurriedly, "or anything. It's just, well--"

Hermione cocked a questioning eyebrow at him, waiting, as patiently as she could, for him to finish his thoughts.

"We may not like him or anything, and sorry, it'll take us a while to get used to all this, but it seems to me like you're wanting it to work, so we wouldn't want him extra mad at you or anything. You know?"

Ron nodded his emphatic agreement.

Gratitude for the two best friends a girl could have washed over Hermione and she, embarrassingly, felt herself perilously close to tears. "Yes, guys, I am sure. We . . . came to an agreement of sorts."

"Wow," was the stereo reply.

"That's amazing," Harry finished.

"Yeah, I have to admit it is," she said softly, shaking her head in her own bemusement.

She and Harry quickly settled themselves in the potions classroom, making sure they were prepared for the arrival of the professor. Ron took off for care of magical creatures.

Ten minutes later, three minutes after the official time for class to begin, they were still waiting, the room growing restless. Hermione patently ignored the superior smirks Malfoy kept throwing her way. They weren't exactly new, after all. Harry wasn't bothering to do that, though. He sent back glare for glare.

The entire class jumped as one when the door finally slammed open, Professor Snape striding in. Without a word of apology for being late to his own class, the professor glided to stand directly before Hermione. Imperiously, he glared down at her.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" she asked, fighting the ridiculous urge to shrink back into her stool.

"What have you done wrong now?" he sneered.

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Nothing, Sir," she replied, wishing whole-heartedly that she sounded just a little more sure of herself.

Several Slytherins, Malfoy included, snickered.

Despite a desire to round on the slimy Slytherins, one in particular, Hermione did not remove an ounce of her attention from the professor.

"Not," he purred, very deliberately placing a small piece of parchment on the worktable in front of her, leaving a single finger pressed against it until he finished speaking, "according to this, Miss Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened as she snapped her gaze down to stare at the incriminating parchment, panic threading its way though her. As the professor pulled his hand back, she slowly reached out and took hold of the parchment. No sooner had she read the opening paragraph, she grinned, relief flooding through her. "Oh," she said off-handedly, "that. Nothing to worry about Professor."

He pulled himself up to his full, rather intimidating height, his sneer deepening. "Falsely taking points, Miss Granger, is nothing to be treated so cavalierly."

"I'm right, he's wrong," she said firmly, her own certitude and self-righteousness wrapped around her like a cloak. "I'm not concerned."

Snape huffed. "We shall see, Miss Granger. We shall see," he said, then swept away, striding back to the front of the class.

"Yes, we shall, Professor," Hermione retorted angrily, for once not really caring what kind of points got taken.

He whipped around to face her, glaring, his eyes burning like two dark, hot coals. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence."

Hermione glared right back, but a moment later was sent diving into confusion. She would have been willing to swear that the professor's expression had changed as he was turning away. Had she really seen the barest hint of delight on the man's face? _No,_ she decided the next second. It wasn't possible. She had to be mistaken.

Harry was staring at her, his curiosity virtually leaping off of them in waves. She didn't say anything, however, not wanting to lose any more points this class. She simply slid the parchment toward him and resolutely turned her attention back to the professor as he began his lecture. Unfortunately, she was completely unable to keep all her focus where it belonged. Even as she listened and took the required notes, her thoughts strayed.

_So,_ she thought, _he's going to evoke the dreaded 'points tribunal'._ She had heard horror stories about the few times in history it had been invoked; those stories being the reason it was very rarely invoked. Most times, altercations were never one-sided enough to not rebound on the supposed victim, and that was something that most students wanted to avoid at all costs, especially in front of everyone else. She barely held back a smirk.

The tribunal itself was going to cause a circus, a circus neatly arranged by Malfoy himself, for his own humiliation at that. She couldn't have planned it better herself, she thought smugly, once again forcing her attention back where it belonged; potions.

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Chapter Eight  
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As class wore on and the not-so-novel enjoyment of Gryffindor suffering began to wear off, Draco began to grow a little concerned. One specific Gryffindor was not suffering like she should have been. Frankly, he would have expected the mudblood to react a bit differently to the summons than she had and just the tiniest bit of doubt began to worm its way into his sure sense of being right.

_Just maybe,_ he thought as he crossed the room to gather his ingredients, _the mublood knows something I don't._

He scoffed a moment later, his potions supplies in hand, denying even the remote possibility that she could know something he didn't. It was a laughable idea, really. Unfortunately, not even concentrating on preparing the ingredients could completely drive out that tiny, miniscule doubt, and it plagued him for the rest of potions class, depriving him of his usual enjoyment. He was just glad they weren't working with partners today, he barely had enough concentration for his own actions, and certainly not enough to pay attention to the possible mistakes of a partner.

A sharp, sudden hiss from his cauldron jerked his attention sharply back into focus. He grabbed for the ground dragon claw -- the only thing that would save his potion at this stage of brewing. He wasn't quick enough and as he shouted out a warning, he dove under his table. He slid under just as his potion exploded, spewing hot, _ruined_ potion everywhere. _Okay, so maybe not even enough for myself,_ he admitted sourly.

A quick glance from under his table revealed that everyone else was under theirs as well. He winced, however, when he saw the extra feet right next to his table. He knew who those belonged to, and seeing them next to his work table, immediately after blowing up his cauldron, they weren't a good thing.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape asked quietly, "may I ask what you thought you were doing when you added too much bobotubor pus?"

Draco sighed, carefully climbing out from under the work table. Turning to face the professor, he knew there was no way to get out of this. Professor Snape knew he _knew_ this potion. "I was . . . distracted, Sir," he replied reluctantly, wishing he could give just about any response but that one.

"Distracted?" Professor Snape hissed angrily.

Wincing, Draco nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"You, of all people, know how dangerous it is to allow distractions while brewing!" he snapped. "Detention, Friday night, with me. You will rebrew this potion properly at that time."

"Yes, Sir."

"And clean up this mess! Class dismissed!"

Everyone else cleared out quickly enough, including Professor Snape, and Draco slumped as he looked around at the mess his inattention had caused, glaring at the bitch as she, too, left the room.

"It's the blasted mudblood's fault!" he groused as he began to clean. "The first time in three years I've ruined a potion and it's all her fault. Can't bloody well react the way she's supposed to. Has absolutely no consideration for her betters!" She would get hers, he though firmly, his mood improving slightly at that. He'd make sure of it.

The moment he was finished cleaning, the cauldrons stacked by the sink waiting on some shmuck's detention, he grabbed his bag and was out the door, himself. Thankfully, the professor had left him a note to give to his next professor. He didn't fancy losing any more points today.

The day dragged on, time passing incredibly slowly. By the end of the last class of the day, he was far more antsy about the situation than he should have been and made a beeline for the library. Granger's confidence had grown to be a huge thorn under his skin. While he doubted he would actually need anything he might find in the library, it always paid to be prepared, to have proof of his assertions ready if he should happen to need them. He smirked. She certainly couldn't have proof. But, if he didn't have it, either, it would be his word against hers, and the outcome of that scenario would depend entirely on which professors sat the tribunal. That was much too uncertain for his tastes. He far preferred things to be weighted heavily in his direction.

The first thing he did, of course, was check the public portion of the students' records. It wouldn't really contain much that wasn't readily known, but it did hold the factual verification he needed of the information he already knew.

_Ah! There it is._

**Student Listing**

Draco thumbed down the list until he reached G.

**Granger, Hermione Jane**

_Jane!?_ he thought with a snicker. _Such a plain name for such a plain girl._

**Granger, Hermione Jane  
Parents: Granger, Athena Desiree DDM**

Her muggle mother was named after a _goddess_? Draco rolled his eyes. _What arrogance!_

**Granger, Theodore Allen DDM**

He slammed the book closed with a sense of vindication. Muggles. They were definitely muggles; though, he did wonder what the initials at the end of their names meant. He quickly shrugged it off, as it was obviously some muggle thing. The initials certainly didn't indicate any wizarding title, professional or otherwise. Those names sure weren't from any wizarding family he had ever heard of either, and considering the extensive -- and repeated -- drilling he had received over the years to make sure he _did_ know these things, that pretty much said it all. He knew who was who in the wizarding world, right down to whose parents were whose, which families had even the tiniest bit of muggle snuck into their ancestry, and most importantly, which did not.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he strode off to find Who's who; A Book of Wizarding History. It would help solidify his position. Of course, not knowing Granger's mother's maiden name was a slight hindrance, but he could certainly look up her father, as well as every witch born in right time frame that bore the name Athena.

The book wasn't difficult to find and Draco hefted it back to his table. Though, not truly self-updating, the book was in itself a 'file' from the historical department of the Ministry of Magic, and as such, was magically update once or twice a year. He wouldn't be able to find out the ancestral data on children born within the last six months to a year -- not that he cared about that -- but he _would_ be able to find the information he needed; i.e. the lack of a listing for Hermione Granger's parents.

The truly wonderful thing about the book was that it magically rearranged itself depending on how the reader wanted to search.

He looked up the family name first, Granger, that being the easiest to set aside. He already knew there was no wizarding family with the surname Granger, not before the current student. After assuring himself that his memory was as good as ever -- and just to be thorough -- he looked up the name Theodore, the book rearranging itself to listing by given name, instead of family name. He wasn't surprised to find that there were several Theodores born during the right time period. Theodore was actually a fairly common wizarding name. He already knew their family history, though, so he easily discounted them -- not to mention that none of them bore the last name Granger.

Last, but certainly not least, he looked up the upstart's name; Athena. He was surprised to find only a single listing during the correct time period, and was further shocked to find that she had been a Malfoy, his aunt. His father's sister, in fact.

With a new sense of disgust, Draco's dislike of the entire Granger family grew as he realized that he had a family member that shared a name with a common _muggle_. His face scrunched up in dislike. _How revolting is that?_

Athena Malfoy was listed as a squib, which probably explained why he had never heard of her. The occasional squib who turned up wasn't exactly extoled in the family history, after all. He did briefly wondered what had happened to her. Had his grandfather had her put down, or had he hidden her away somewhere? Draco supposed he would never know. He certainly wasn't about to ask his father about it. His father would want to know why he wanted to know. Besides, he was pretty sure his father wouldn't be happy about having a squib for a sister. He knew _he_ wouldn't be. That would be just plain embarrassing.

Replacing both books -- no sense letting 'anyone' know he'd done his research -- Draco strolled out of the library far happier than he'd gone in. Tonight, after dinner, the tribunal would be held, and Granger would be humiliated in front of the entire school for delusional airs; not a mudblood, indeed, he scoffed.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: Yes please

AN: Yes, prejudice is quite blind to what it doesn't want to see. ::smirk::


	6. Chapter Nine

**Makaem:** You're right, Lucius is not going to be happy with Draco, that's for sure.  
**Pstibbons:** Agreed, that would be something that would come up. Which makes it a telling point that JKR chose to make her muggleborn. : ) Obviously, Hermione is an 'icon' so to speak. And then, on the opposite ends we have Neville and Ron, both purebloods and neither are exactly academically inclined. And one assumes that Crabbe and Goyle are purebloods, or close to it. Neither are exactly poster boys for pureblood superiority. LOL Love the subtlety with that. ::smirks:: Of course, one could always argue back at those purebloods, "why then did you not realize she wasn't muggleborn before now?" hehe. Wonder what they'd respond to that one?  
**Shadow Wars Warrior:** That's assuming, of course, that she'll actually get the nerve to do it. LOL  
Thanks Everyone, you keep me writing! : )

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Chapter Nine  
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Severus Snape was looking forward to this evening's after dinner festivities with uncommon anticipation. Draco Malfoy was going to learn a lesson in when an opponent's confidence just might be because they actually knew something he didn't. It might finally lead the young man to some realizations of his own. Severus could only hope that those realizations led him in the right direction. He would like to see at least one of the seventh year Slytherins with deatheaters for parents end up on the light side of this war. Of course, his anticipation wasn't dented at all by the fact that the whole thing should be a very entertaining circus. The fact that his own private history was going to come on display was a distraction from that, but overall. . . .

He pushed his plate away, having eaten less than half of what was there, but he was far more interested in listening to the excited buzz coming from both the students and other professors. Settling himself back with a fresh cup of tea, his expanded his awareness, allowing the individual conversations to become more than general din.

Almost immediately, something about Minerva caught his attention and he zero'd in on her. She looked just a little too . . . smug, knowing. With a quick, covert glance toward the Gryffindor table, he wondered whether Miss Granger had confided in her head of house. After a moment's contemplation, he realized it was quite possible, once again returning his attention to his collegue. She certainly seemed every bit as anticipatory as he felt. Yes. She definitely, without a doubt, knew at least part of the truth.

Shifting his attention to the students, he had to smirk. They were all _agog_, he thought drily with a purely mental snort and shake of his head, about the upcoming tribunal.

'Once in a lifetime occurence,' one of the Ravenclaws said. Severus wasn't sure who, exactly. 'The last time a points tribunal was called was over 24 years ago.'

'I can't believe Malfoy is so petty as to disrupt the entire school for something so minor.'

_A Ravenclaw, also, has to be._

'Five points! Really!'

Severus almost laughed; though, he managed to keep his reaction mostly internal, at the outrage in the girl's voice. It was highly amusing. He did find himself agreeing with her content, however, if not her . . . vehemence. Five points _was_ awfully petty to be calling a tribunal over. He was ashamed it was a Slytherin doing it.

Shrugging it off, he supposed the points weren't really the point of the whole thing. It was about a juvenile sort of revenge, not about vindication or justice.

The doors to the great hall flew open and Lucius Malfoy breezed in, looking _very_ put out.

Severus barely managed to hid his resultant smirk, needing to look down at his still half full plate until he managed to control it well enough to hide it from Lucius. He did wonder what Miss Granger had been thinking to call Lucius Malfoy into the precedings. He shook his head slightly. Oh, yes, tonight was _definitely_ going to be interesting. He just wasn't sure if involving the older Malfoy was very smart. The man could hold a grudge for a very long time, and he wasn't _nice_ about evening the score.

Glaring at the room in general, the blond's gaze sweeping disdainfully over most of its occupants, he headed directly toward his son. Severus could just barely make out the words he shared with the boy.

"This had better be worth my time, Draco," he sneered, immediately sweeping on, coming to a stop at the staff table.

Albus rose gracefully, greeting Lucius. "Would you care to join us for the evening repast?" he asked congenially. "The students are just now finishing up."

Lucius shook his head impatiently. "No," he replied shortly, "I would rather get this farce over with."

Albus nodded, and with a wave of his hand, an extra chair appeared on his left. He waited for the wizard to seat himself before turning his attention to the student body.

"Attention, everyone," he began, pausing as the students instantly diverted their focus toward him. Apparently, no one wanted to miss this particular announcement.

"Tonight, a points tribunal has been called, something of a rarity, as the last was called more than two generations ago. The calling student is Mr. Draco Malfoy. The called is Miss Hermione Granger. No witnesses have been called. Also calling is Miss Hermione Granger. The called is Mr. Draco Malfoy. A witness has been called Professor Severus Tobias Snape. As head of the tribunal, I have called Mr. Lucius Antonin Malfoy, due to the nature of the secondary calling. Attendance his required by the student body. As such, no one will leave until we have completed the proceedings."

Whispers stormed through the hall, but Severus' attention was held by the Malfoys. Lucius was openly surprised as to why he had been called here. Severus would be willing to be that he'd thought his son had called him. Draco, however, was openly gobsmacked, revealing he definitely had not even known his father had been called, let alone why. Severus was just grateful it had not been Miss-- his daughter that had the wizard called.

"As such," Albus continued when the hall had quieted down some, "could Professor Snape and Lucius Malfoy please vacate the tribunal table. As witnesses they cannot sit it."

With nearly identical eye rolls the two men rose, and as they stepped off the dias, the tables all cleared, the Slytherin table elongated to provide open seats at the head end for each of them.

Lucius was highly irritated, but beneath that, Severus could see confused curiosity. It was obvious he had no more idea why he had been called than his son had. He barely knew Miss Granger, after all. Severus cast him a questioning look and received a 'who knows' shrug in return.

"Mr. Draconis Lucius Malfoy,--"

Several giggles across the hall disrupted the headmaster's call, but he only paused a moment before continuing.

"--would you please come forward."

Draco stood, stepping toward the head table as instructed. He stood regally, arrogantly.

"What is the complaint you bring to us today?" Albus intoned, sounding as pompous as Severus had heard the older wizard.

Draco straightened. "I claim that this year's Head Girl of misuse of the powers of her office. Hermione Granger, did take five points from Slytherin under false pretences."

The muttered, '_five points?_', from Lucius almost made Severus laugh and he suspected that Draco would be hearing something about picking his battles at Lucius' first opportunity.

"A strong accusation," Albus replied evenly, "one that could result in the loss of the position of Head Girl. Are you certain you wish to push this claim?"

Draco nodded, a not very well hidden smirk twisting his mouth. "I am."

Albus nodded. Waving his hand, a chair appeared off to the side, between the student tables and the tribunal table. "Please sit."

"Miss Hermione Jane Granger," Albus then called, "would you please come forward."

Miss Granger did so, standing proudly, not even bothering to hide the smirk that Draco had so unsuccessfuly tried to hide. In fact, it grew as she shot a quick, smug look toward Draco.

Severus did a rather startled double-take at the two of them. Looking like smirking, evil -- opposite colored -- book ends, he could actually see the resemblence between the two for the first time ever. He doubted anyone else would -- at least not until the truth was revealed.

"And what do you come here to claim and/or counter claim to Mr. Malfoy's claim of misuse of your school granted power as Head Girl?"

"I claim not guilty of the charges currently brought forth," she replied smoothly. "Furthermore, I counter-claim slander against Mr. Malfoy."

Severus felt a small jolt of surprise shoot through him. So, that certainly explained Lucius' presence. His own testimony would have been sufficient to refute the misuse of powers charge, but it wasn't near enough to assure victory in the slander charge. Albus would have called him because of the criminal 'taint' to the charges, which -- while they would not result in actual criminal charges being filed -- would actually follow him after school.

Albus nodded thoughtfully, waiting for the excited whispering of the students to subside before continuing. "To be considered slander, the information spread, regardless of alleged falsity, must also be of a detrimental or insulting nature. "Do you believe the alleged slander to be insulting?"

"No, I do not."

Another murmur raced through the audience, louder and longer this time. Severus picked out a recurring theme. 'Why counter-claim then?'

"Quiet!" Minerva ordered firmly.

"In that case, do you believe it to be detrimental?" Albus asked.

"I do."

"Very well, we will proceed with the charges as they stand."

Granger took another step forward and, surprised, Albus' attention returned to her -- along with everyone else's, Severus' included. What was she doing now?

"You have something you wish to add, Miss Granger?"

"I do, Sir," she replied.

"Proceed; provisionally," Albus allowed. "You may not bring forth testimony of any kind at this time, nor any defence of the charges brought against you."

Granger nodded. "I understand, Sir. As primary called, and secondary caller, I offer the secondary called this verbal manifesto. Under the single condition that Mr. Malfoy admits that his inference was incorrect, and drops his suit, I will in turn drop the slander suit."

It was an generous offer on Miss Granger's part. The charge she brought against Mr. Malfoy was more severe than the one he brought against her. He wondered, however, if she knew enough about Slytherin thought processes to realize that her opponent would simply see it as a weakness on her part -- that she wasn't quite as sure of her case as she acted. If she did, it was a genius stroke on her part to make sure she came out of the affair smelling like roses, with her opponant looking like an idiot.

Albus' eyebrow shot up in one of the few displays of open surprise Severus had ever seen on the headmaster's face. He turned toward Draco. "Do you accept, Mr. Malfoy?"

Poorly hiding a sneer, Draco shook his head. "No, Sir, I do not."

Albus shook his head, obviously having hoped that Draco would accept. Did he know, then?

After a moment's reflection, Severus decided the man didn't. His eyes were not dancing with anticipation as they would be had he known.

"Very well." With another theatrical hand wave a second chair appeared, on her side of the room this time. "Please sit, Miss Granger." Draco was again called forward, this time told to recount the encounter in question.

He did so smoothly, glossing over his use of foul language, Severus noted without surprise, refering to it as 'having made reference to her being muggleborn in a derogatory manner'. When asked if he had anything further to contribute, he nodded. "Yes, Sir. In checking the school register, I verified her parents names, Theodore and Athena Granger. There is no wizarding family with the surname Granger. Also having researched their given names -- within the appropriate time period -- I found neither witch nor wizard that could possibly be her parents. I, therefore, submit, that while I was rude, I was not slanderous."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. You have stated your case with eloquence."

Draco nodded in response. Sitting back down, he threw yet another smug look at Granger.

Albus ignored the exchange to call Miss Granger forward again. "Can you refute your opponent's assertions?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Proceed."

"I grant that the information Mr. Malfoy found is, indeed, listed in the sources sited by him. I also grant that Athena Granger was my mother. What Mr. Malfoy neglected to mention, or perhaps being very charitable, did not realize, is that she _is_ listed in Who's Who, a Book of Wizarding History." She looked down briefly, pulling out the mentioned book from her ever-present book bag and handed it over to Albus. "You will not find her listed under the name of Granger, of course, since she was married to a muggle. You will, however, find her listed under her given name of Athena."

Draco gasped, muttering an angry, "outrageous!"

"You will remain respectfully silent during your opponent's appeal, or you will find points stripped from your house in addition to any not resolved by this tribunal." He paused, waiting for a response. "We will now continue," he said when he received none, opening the book to the required listing.

Severus had difficulty not laughing as Albus did a _very_ classic double-take after actually registering what the entry said. He was truly enjoying this. He had never seen the headmaster so openly flumuxed before.

_And it's __**my**__ daughter that managed it!_

For the first time since he'd discovered the possible relationship between them, Severus felt the smallest glow of pride. He also discovered that he liked the feeling. Maybe this wouldn't be such a disaster after all. Bravery wasn't all that bad, as long as it was tempered with cunning and subtlety -- and he could, perhaps, teach her that.

"This is very . . . interesting, Miss Granger," Albus responded after a couple seconds. "Would you please state for the record, what information we have been discussing and that I have just visually verified.

A quick glance at Draco revealed he was stewing angrily, drawing not only _his_ attention but Lucius' as well. The man frowned, studying his son carefully, his expression puzzled as he obviously tried to figure out just what had his son so . . . unsettled.

"Yes, Sir. We are discussing my mother's familial associations, namely, her birth family, and consequently, her maiden name."

Heated, speculative whispers waved across the hall.

"Quiet!" Minerva ordered a second time, "or house points will be taken."

Quiet was quickly resumed.

"The listing you are currently refering to is my mother's."

"Yes," Albus prodded.

"She is listed there--"

Fierce whispers erupted again, but quieted before Minerva could react this time.

"--under her maiden name, Athena--" Miss Granger paused. "Malfoy."

Dead silence followed her announcement. Draco looked absolutely mutinous, if not murderous. Lucius sat forward abruptly, profoundly shocked; though only someone who knew him well could tell. No jaw dropping for the elder Malfoy. It would be far too undignified.

Albus played the silence, allowing the shock to stretch out. "Miss Granger, this is a very unique presentation; however, proving the two women bore the same name, is not proof that the two women were one and the same."

"Damn straight!" Draco muttered, though he clamped his mouth shut immediately after.

"Do you have proof they are, indeed, the same woman?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What proof do you offer this tribunal and its witnesses?"

"I offer a living witness who knew Athena Malfoy during her teenage years, and who saw my mother only yesterday, recognizing the woman he once knew."

"Oh for--!" Lucius exclaimed, standing abruptly. "I strenuously object to this."

Frowning, Albus turned toward Lucius. "While it is highly irregular, I will allow your interruption -- considering the subject matter. What is your _specific_ objection?"

"It is patently ridiculous that this child is claiming--"

Albus held up his hand, cutting off Lucius' rant. "Forgive me. I should have been more specific. Please allow me to rephrase. What objection can you raise that would prompt me to possibly disallow this line of evidence?"

Rolling his eyes, even huffing slightly, Lucius took the time to throw a dark glare Granger's way. "It is known -- via the front page of the profit -- that this child's mother died two days ago. How could her so-called _witness_ have seen the woman a day _after_ she died?"

"Care to respond to that, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied. Turning to face Lucius, she continued evenly. "My witness accompanied me to the muggle morgue in order to legally identify my parents' bodies."

Severus' eyes narrowed as he watched her interact with Lucius. He could see the strain that mentioning that trip brought to her; though, she certainly seemed to be holding up well, despite her loss.

"Does that answer the question to your satisfaction?" Albus asked, directing a challenging stare at Lucius.

Lucius reluctantly nodded. "Yes," he replied drily.

"Call your witness, then, Miss Granger."

"Professor Snape, would you please come forward?"

Severus quickly and efficiently wiping his expression of all nuances and carefully displaying absolute neutrality, rose and strode the short distance to stand next to his daughter.

"Professor, would you please state for the record; did you know Miss Athena Malfoy while you both attended school here?"

"No," he replied flatly. What was she up to now? Squibs didn't attend Hogwarts, or any magical school, for that matter, something Granger well knew.

"Clarify."

Arching an eyebrow, he glared at her. Daughter or not, tribunal or not, he would not be ordered about by a student.

"Please."

"Miss Malfoy did not attend Hogwarts," he replied, without expanding. If she was going to ask inadequate questions, she would get inadequate answers.

"Why didn't she?"

"She was a squib. Squibs do not attend magical school."

A shocked murmur, quickly stifled.

"Thank you," Miss Granger nodded. "Did you, again for the record, Sir, chaperone my visit to the muggle morgue?"

"I did."

"Did you subsequently recognize one of the bodies?"

What? Did she swallow a legal novel, or something? "I did," he replied unhelpfully. This thing was beginning to draw out too much, so he had to get his entertainment where he could.

She sighed, beginning to look a little exasperated and throwing him a slight glare of her own to which he merely smirked.

_Ask better questions, little girl, and you'll get better answers._

"And just who did you recognize?"

Okay, enough was enough. "I recognized your mother, known as Mrs. Athena Granger. I used to know her as Miss Athena Malfoy."

"And you recognized her so easily after all these years, Professor?"

"She hadn't changed much," he replied uneasily, "with the exception of appearing older, of course."

"Of course," Hermione replied, turning back to face Albus. "I have no further questions, Sir."

Severus went back to his seat, waiting only a heartbeat to make sure no one else had questions -- ones he had to answer, at any rate. He was getting tired of this. It had extended far beyond its entertainment value, and was now wishing it was simply over with. It was a ridiculous amount of wasted time for a measley 5 house points. Of course, he admitted to himself, he'd already realized this wasn't _about_ those points. This was about two students' desires to humiliate the other, and, unfortunately, it was spiralling out of control. At this point, he wondered just where it would end.

"Since you have amply proven the you are, indeed, not muggleborn, given that your mother was, in fact, a pureblood squib, not a muggle, the charges of misuse of power are dropped. As to the charge of slander--"

"Sir?" Draco interrupted, standing, his expression dark; though, his tone was reasonably polite.

With only the tiniest of sighs, Albus turned to Draco. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

I respectfully--"

_In a pig's eyes!_

"--submit that, although the derogatory term I used is usually used to refer to muggleborns specifically, it is also sometimes used to refer to those of _mixed_ heritage as well. I further submit that the primary called has not refuted her father's _heritage_ as a muggle, my use of that specific term, while not polite, is still accurate."

With a roll of his eyes--

Severus almost snorted. It really took a lot before the nearly perpetually cheery headmaster truly began to lose his patience. Draco was apparently approaching that limit now.

--Albus turned back to Miss Granger. "What say you to that, Miss Granger?"

"I would ask why the secondary called thinks my father is a muggle?"

"Okay," Albus muttered just barely loud enough for Severus to hear, "now I feel like I'm refereeing a bloody tennis match."

"Albus!" Minerva admonished, again just loud enough for Severus to hear.

Severus stifled a snort, now picturing Albus sitting on the tower chair of a tennis referee, his head whipping back and forth.

Draco looked stimied for a moment before diving ahead. "This tribunal has already established that Theodore Granger was a muggle. He is not listed in 'Who's who'. Miss Granger has already admitted to such."

This time Albus merely redirected his gaze questioningly toward Miss Granger, not bothering to actually ask.

"That statement is only half-correct, Sir," she replied evenly.

Albus frowned, a confused expression flitting across his face briefly. "How is it incorrect?" he asked.

"This tribunal has indeed established that Theodore Granger was a muggle. It has not, however, established that my father is one. It, in fact, cannot establish that."

Draco opened his mouth, but Albus held up a hand to silence both him _and_ the other students, who had once again broken out in whispers.

Severus was now certain that this circus would not end before at least one house lost points -- if not all of them.

"Why not?" Albus asked, obviously curious enough now to suddenly forgo all the bloody formality.

That was fine by Severus. Maybe this would end more quickly that way. The entertainment value had long since waned. Of course, that was politics for you.

She grinned. "Because Mr. Granger was my step-father."

Albus looked openly shocked and Severus dearly wished he had a camera. It wasn't often _anyone_ managed that. A flash went off and his head snapped around, immediately searching out the culprit. He didn't see anyone obvious, but decided he'd find the person later. Someone would be sure to tell him.

With a swift, startled look toward Minerva -- who was still looking quite smug -- Albus plowed ahead. Severus did note, however, that Draco was now looking particularly defeated. While that did not sit well with Severus for several reasons, he knew it would teach the overly proud youth a lesson in knowing when to concede -- a second good lesson to be learned from this circus.

"Why was I unaware of this?"

'You normally would be?" Miss Granger exclaimed, then winced. "I don't know why you were unaware of it. I've known since I was old enough to understand such things."

"Since Draco's charge of misuse of power has been dropped, are you still willing to let go the more formal charge of slander?"

Draco opened his mouth to protest. Lucius, however, was quicker, his hand slapping the back of his head. "Silence!" he hissed, his voice tempered so only those very close could hear.

"As before," Miss Granger nodded, "as long as Draco admits his use of that word was incorrect, I am willing."

Briefly closing his eyes wearily, Albus turned back toward Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, are you?"

Draco rose again, pointedly not looking at his father. "I cannot admit to being incorrect, as I do not know that I was. Miss Granger has yet to tell us who her father is."

_obstinate child!_

Shocking Severus, Albus visibly sagged.

"If she can prove her father was not a muggle, however, I will so admit."

_Thank Merlin!_

"Will you accept her word that whoever she names is not a muggle?"

"Yes--"

_Good!_

"--provided--"

_Damn!_

"--there is some proof that the man in question is actually her father. I apologize to everyone, but it is easy to claim kinship. It is far more difficult to prove the veracity of the claim."

Guarded relief showed in Albus' eyes as he turned back to Miss Granger. "To settle this once and for all, Miss Granger; who is your father and is he a muggle?"

"My birth father is not a muggle," she replied.

"Oh, just get on with it, Granger!" Draco snapped earning himself a glare from both Albus and Minerva, as well as matching ones he couldn't see from his father and Severus. "Who is he?"

Sparing a glare of her own for her opponent, Miss Granger answered. "My father is Professor Severus Snape."

For about a breath and a half, the silence was so intense that one of Minerva's pins could have been heard hitting the stone floor. The moment the initial shock wore off, however, an entire contingent of death eaters could have apparated in and they just might have been missed, as all eyes in the hall turned as one toward him.

'Snape's her father?!'

'How did that happen?'

'How come no one knew?'

"Why did everyone think she was muggleborn?'

"Granger's a pureblood!?"

The last, uttered by Draco, obviously puzzled Miss Granger and she shot a confused look at the Slytherin. Her reaction confused Severus -- for about two seconds -- then the dread set in. Of course, the chit had looked it up. When did she _not_ look things up? He glared at her the moment she looked toward him, not daring anything more direct in way of direction -- what with everyone's eyes on him watching for his reaction -- and willed her to understand. She needed to keep her mouth shut . . . for once. He had worked hard to suppress knowledge of his full heritage, and it would not go over well -- in certain circles -- for it to be brought to light in such a public arena now.

Then suddenly, her eyes lit up in understanding -- or so it seemed -- the puzzled look fading.

"SILENCE!" Albus roared, causing Severus -- and no few others, he was sure -- to jump nearly out of his skin. Albus never shouted. He was instantly obeyed.

"Severus; true?" he asked.

Severus didn't pretend to misunderstand. He simply nodded once. "Tested by potion last night," he explained.

"That explains why no-one knew," Albus replied nodding, once again looking completely unruffled -- though, Severus doubted the expression was more than skin deep. "Lucius?"

Lucius started to rise.

"Oh, do sit down," Albus snapped.

Surprised at the exasperated command, Lucius did stay seated.

"Who was Athena Malfoy? And so help me, if you draw this thing out for no more reason than your own perverse pleasure. . . ." he trailed off, letting his specific threat go unspecified.

Lucius sighed, hesitating. "Athena Malfoy was my sister," he admitted, appearing very much reluctant. "And yes, she was, indeed, a squib." Of course, the information was easily verifiable, so lying about it was useless.

Severus was willing to bet, however, that publicly admitting that his sister had been a squib was not sitting well with the elder Malfoy.

"How could she have come to be in the muggle world without knowledge of the wizarding one?"

Sighing heavily, he explained. "My maternal grandparents, for varied reasons, decided she would be better off there. They obliviated her of all her knowledge of the wizarding world."

Albus nodded sharply, turning his attention to the room at large. "This tribunal is over. "Misuse of power, dropped. Points taken, sustained." Albus turned sharply to face Draco, his expression stern. "Mr. Malfoy?"

This time, with his father glaring daggers at him, Draco didn't even try to delay. "I admit that I was incorrect when I called Miss Granger that name." Surprising everyone, he continued. "It will not happen again."

"The charges of slander, voluntarily dropped. You, you, you, you, and _you_, in my office," Albus ordered pointing to each Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Severus and Minerva in turn. "Everyone else, dismissed."

Just before the door closed behind him, Severus heard a student whisper, "oh! The headmaster's ticked!"

He almost laughed . . . out loud.

Albus' head whipped around to glare at the remaining students, but either he didn't know which student had been brave -- stupid -- enough to speak up, or realized they were right, and decided to keep his mouth shut. Either way, it was a first, one he was going to remember for a very long time.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: Oh, yes please.


	7. Chapter ten

Thank you everyone for your insightful and supportive reviews. Several of your comments have influenced character thoughts in this, the last, chapter. : ) Enjoy!  
Elvish Dreams: Unfortunately, that'd be quite the wait, since I haven't even started an _idea_ for it, let alone actually writing it. LOL  
Musicgurl: Sorry, but this was the last chapter. :(

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Chapter Twelve  
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Albus sat at his desk, finally alone in his office, deep in thought. It had been a long time since anything had come as much of a surprise as today's revelations had and he found he needed time to process today's events and what impact they might have. The long day may be now over, but the repercussions from it would last a lifetime and only time would tell what exactly those repercussions would be. It would certainly be an interesting ride, however. Of that much, he was certain.

x-x-x

Lucius strode off school grounds, his mind whirling, busy calculating all the possible outcomes from today's circus. His family had once again been brought into the spot light, something he was _not_ happy about. He would need to work hard to contain the scandal -- a squib in the Malfoy line! He simply hoped, whatever else happened, this incident might teach his arrogant, impetuous son a lesson in thorough research of a subject matter before moving ahead with a plan. Ill thought out plans backfired all too often, an occurence he was, unfortunately, intimately aquainted with.

He snorted inelegantly, not particularly caring that the action wasn't very dignified -- he was alone, after all. At least it finally explained to his satisfaction why the girl was constantly such a thorn in Draco's side. Who else but a Malfoy could outdo a Malfoy so consistently? He wasn't completely comfortable with who the girl's father was, though, the wizard's place within the dark lord's circle notwithstanding. Severus was an excellent Slytherin, and over all, a good friend, but he wasn't from the purest background -- something Lucius hadn't discovered until very recently.

At least he didn't have to do anything about that -- a difficult task in itself, what with the girl being just who she was -- his sister had been a squib, and the girl, herself did not bear the Malfoy name, so couldn't taint the line, as such. In fact, he mused suddenly, by appearing to accept the girl -- for now -- he might actually help his position in the current political climate. He dreaded explaining his actions -- or lack thereof -- to the dark lord, however, but he supposed the whole thing could be far worse.

That settled in his mind, he turned his thoughts to the myriad of ways he could minimize the scandal and maximize the benefits of this unexpected . . . surprise.

x-x-x

Draco sat silent, sullenly staring into the fire in the Slytherin common room, his father's chastisement ringing in his ears. It had been thoroughly unfair of his father. He _had_ done his research. There was no possible way he could have realized the truth of the matter. How could he? He'd had to strike while the time was ideal, _waiting_ would have meant not being able to strike at all, and all the evidence had pointed to him being right.

_And Granger's certainty, pointed to that how?_

Draco ignored the thought. The chit was always 'certain', even when she was dead wrong.

Sighing, he stood, slowly making his way to his dorm. He needed sleep to figure out what he was going to do about this. At this point, all he knew for sure was that he suddenly found himself closely related to a bloody _Gryffindor_! That was something he'd never thought he would see.

As he finally crawled into bed, Draco had concluded only one thing; that he would sit back and see how events unfolded. He could determine what he was going to do from that.

x-x-x

Severus sighed as the doors to his quarters closed behind him, bringing to an end an incredibly long day. It had certainly lived up -- or perhaps, more accurately, down -- to his expectations, exceeded them, in fact. He just wasn't sure, at this point, just what the ramifications were going to be. There were simply too many fronts to consider; Lucius, Draco, society in general, and last, but certainly, in no way least, the dark lord.

Frankly, he was only concerned about three of them, society in general could sod off, as far as he was concerned. Draco was his godson, however, and the boy's ultimate reaction worried him. The boy may be an arrogant brat, but Severus still had hopes of him becoming an upstanding man and would hate to see this situation derail that. Lucius, on the other hand, was a whole other bag of galleons, and there was really no way of telling which way the man would lean. For all Severus knew, he would grab hold of this new information to simply bolster his already staunch belief in the superiority of purebloods, citing this as the reason that Hermione excelled. Or, he could go the completely opposite direction creating havoc for everyone involved.

The dark lord, now there was a true conundrum, one he had no clue how to even begin to unravel. That Hermione was female was a blessing, certainly. That would preclude the dark lord's command that she be 'indoctrinated'. Of course, the fact that she was Potter's _friend_ created a whole new wrinkle. Would the dark lord seek to use that to his advantage? Only time would tell, he supposed, but Severus could _hope_ that the dark lord had enough reason left in his insane mind to realize that their newfound relationship was certainly not about to bring about a miraculous change of heart in the know-it-all Gryffindor.

Sighing, he shook his head and began readying himself for bed. He did not have patrol tonight, and grading could take the path of the lemmings for tonight. He was going to take advantage of an evening to himself and simply sleep.

x-x-x

Hermione escaped to the dubious sanctuary provided by her private room, once again grateful instead of resentful of its separateness. The entire school was buzzing with the latest news, and she hadn't been able to go anywhere without being either stared at or interogated . . .though, her friends did help where they could.

Finally alone with her thoughts, she couldn't help but wonder what the future held for her. she'd grown up believing herself muggleborn, not just muggle raised. She had Professor Snape, harshest Hogwarts' professor for a father, Draco Malfoy for a 1st cousin, and _Lucius_ Malfoy as an uncle.

"Uncle Lucius," she said, trying it on for size, then giggled. It did not sound anywhere near right, and she suspected it never would. She grinned mischievously, then, wondering if she would ever have the nerve to call professor Snape 'daddy' to his face. She suspected not, but it was fun to contemplate his reaction all-the-same -- after she graduated. She had no wish to lose her house the house cup this year, nor land herself in detention until she graduated. As it was, she had to admit that this new information would certainly make for some rather interesting . . . twists in her life for years to come, and she couldn't wait to find out what the future would hold for her; something she well knew her mother would encourage were she here to do so.

THE END

For now, we've reached the end of this part of Hermione's life. I should begin posting my next story within the next two weeks; though, at this point I have no clue which one it's going to be. It will be longer, that much I'm sure of. Me and short stories don't happen often. LOL


End file.
